


This Heart of Mine

by Macbetha



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macbetha/pseuds/Macbetha
Summary: “In the Garden of Eden, would you be Adam or Eve?” Makoto repeats the question and ponders it. He cuts a self-depreciating smile, though his blush is softer, bashful. “I would probably be Eve. Taking any chance I could to give us a better life, even if I thought it might all be a lie. Who would you be?”The answer rings true in Haruka’s core and he hates it. “I would be God.”Up on the desolate shores of a troubled sea, Haruka has journeyed to a nobler life. His name is a hollow, forgotten glory that he was glad to leave behind until life demanded otherwise. Turning his back on the shadows only excited those shapes of fear and mystery lurking right behind him. But this time, they are not just after him.Caught between two worlds, Haruka and Makoto arm themselves with heart-shaped blades.Sequel to Eyes Wide Open All the Time.
Relationships: Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Kirishima Natsuya/Serizawa Nao, Matsuoka Gou/Mikoshiba Isuzu, Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Comments: 119
Kudos: 96





	1. Prologue: Three of Pentacles

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to ewoatt and me! :D 
> 
> five years ago today, i posted the first chapter of a bizarre and uncomfortably personal story. i couldn't describe it better than that story being there for me when i needed it the most, and this is no different. 
> 
> there were a lot of roadblocks in the way of the story that i wanted to tell with a sequel, but we are finally here. thank you so much for being here, for your patience, your reassurance, friendships and kindness. i am grateful. 
> 
> big hugs to maddie, who kindly guided my hand in rewriting coral and bone as an original, and allie, who miraculously beta read the entirety of eyes wide open all the time and more. both of them were absolutely gracious in offering their thoughts as i wrote the plot of this sequel. thank you both so, SO much! 
> 
> two years ago today, i planned to release the first try at an ewoatt sequel, but i had an unexpected funeral to attend. so much of myself, my stories, and my viewpoint comes from the nurturing of my uncle that passed away. this odd, fictional universe has so much to do with him. so to him, _i miss you_ , and i say that with a pain that is still so alive and quivering and hot in my chest. i've learned to cradle that pain and tell it that everything is all right. i hope you see that every happy moment i write is me wishing you a kinder sky. thanks for singing that "walk the line" song with mom when i was little. you know i can't play worth shit, but i still have your guitar.
> 
> thank you for being here. i hope you enjoy. welcome back :)

* * *

_"It is not a very fragrant world, but it is the world you live in."_

\- Raymond Chandler, **"The Simple Art of Murder"**

* * *

The summer that Makoto drowns, a three-year-old Siberian tiger washes up on the Iwatobi shore.

An autopsy of the tiger reveals a poor diet of moldy hay and chicken bones, but only the breasts, thighs, and wings. Her coat was white, and the tiger was female. Signs suggest that she bore a cub before she drowned. Her cub cannot be located, and she possesses no microchip nor serial tattoo from a zoo.  
  
The assumption is that the tiger escaped from a boat. Splinters in her side reveal that she rubbed up against something, possibly the crate she was housed in. The story of her puzzling voyage perks the interest of an arboreal morphologist who samples those splinters and claims that the wood is from a warden tree, or _vårdträd._ Hiding a tiger in a crate built from trees of such sacred, religious history is bizarre enough, but discovering that absolutely no Swedish imports have been documented in Iwatobi for months is downright confounding.  
  
No tigers have ever passed through Iwatobi’s harbor, not even in the paperwork backdating decades, so this leaves the police with two theories: either a rogue vessel snuck into the traffic of container ships, bulk carriers, and tankers, or it was one of those very cargo ships that brought the tiger across the ocean.  
  
Stiff regulations state that keeping track of what a crate is made of is just as important as what is inside that crate. Several captains sailed the day the tiger was found and all of them hand over their logbooks. They insist with the upmost adamancy that neither the tiger nor that crate was aboard their ship, and there is no evidence to prove otherwise.  
  
Even the most stone-eyed citizens of Iwatobi consider the tiger’s appearance interesting. The more superstitious folks call it a sign. Makoto just calls it creepy, setting the tone for a bright, grotesque season.   
  
Summer. Christ, it never fails, does it? He can so easily picture the hungering stare of sunlight glaring down on his home – hiding in his sheets, slipping into his clothes, demanding a taste of his salt. Heat is inescapable, much like summer’s foliage. When flowering green takes hold of Iwatobi, it acts as a reminder that envy and greed are still very much alive, and the rains only come to make it stronger.  
  
Iwatobi is a seaside town, after all. What could grow from the salt of this place other than what was already here?  
  
For the record, Makoto isn’t exactly sure what he expected from this summer. Did he really anticipate a decent change with the new season? A new leaf? Did he honestly think that drowning would be a quiet experience, like falling asleep?  
  
 _Did you really think it would get better?_

Surely, he wasn’t that foolish. All this city knows is bleeding – to close that scar would feel like a lock to a cage.  
  
Iwatobi’s people – the birds, the wolves, the snakes and cats and rabbits – each of them plays a part like a layer of the earth. Perhaps they are not always seen, but they are necessary.  
  
Makoto took a big piece of that foundation. He built a home on that severely fragile piece of ground. He buried himself in the cold bleak earth of this town just to see if there was light somewhere beneath and there _was –_ oh God, there was pure joy where nobody else had ever dared to look. Makoto helped that blood-soggy, blue fern grow into something better; he went to the dreaded ocean for water and when that wasn’t enough, he used his tears. He fretted over that broken landscape of a person with nothing to offer but his own sorry excuse for love, and it _worked._  
  
Haruka helped him grow too. Like nothing Makoto ever dreamed of.  
  
Makoto just wishes someone told him there are flowers that die in summer.

* * *

* * *

**PICK A CARD**

**[](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s540x810/c1b6cc7e54615fef5916067be73360840abf084a.jpg)[](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFzdG6bmesk)**

one card is right  
the other is wrong  
will you take a chance on this journey long?  
keep your eyes open  
but let your heart choose the way  
decide whether to leave or to stay  
one card leads to darkness  
the other, to song  
take fate into your hands and do not prolong  
some think day and night are equally fun  
do you choose the moon or the sun?

* * *


	2. Chapter One: The Lovers (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The universe might have its fingers on the lowest piano keys, hovering and waiting to play his swan song, but it is peaceful right now. Haruka will take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This takes place six years after _Eyes Wide Open All the Time_ 's final chapter, and three years after the events of _Eyes Wide Open All the Time_ 's epilogue and its Spin Off, _No Sugar In My Coffee_. This is the same summer mentioned in this prologue.**
> 
> Like I said, I'll have the EWOATTverse Cheat sheet up soon, but for now, some ages:
> 
> Haruka (29)  
> Makoto (30)  
> Sousuke (30)  
> Rin (29)  
> Gou (16)  
> Namiko (6) 
> 
> This fic does have a linear timeline, but I thought it would be easier to include timestamps. Let me know if this helps you, please! It'll be more of note when we have multiple scenes in a chapter. Folks seemed to like shorter chapters with quicker updates for another work of mine, so I'm just seeing what you think. I feel like it works because this is such an extensive universe lol. I'd really appreciate your feedback on the formatting and pacing!
> 
> **Songs for atmosphere are linked in the text.** They are optional, but might contain hints. I'll let you know this first song reminds me of baby ewoatt!haru so much that I cried. You still have your card game at the end as well ;)
> 
> Thank you and please enjoy!

* * *

* * *

**AUGUST 9th**   
**6: 20 AM**

**[The](https://youtu.be/KEfNo-rHjyQ)** world is sepia beneath the cloudy sunrise, and it silhouettes a hard-bitten figure crouched in the sand. The man shifts in the gritty focus before a sparkwheel flashes in the dark. Haruka’s tongue flutters under the rush of smoke and he exhales a fresh dose of tranquility as he regards the lonesome beach.

A murky spill of humidity fell over Iwatobi weeks ago; it smells like it’s going to rain soon. Nonetheless, the distant harbor is alight as fishing crews head to their boats with steaming thermoses filled with coffee to chase away the restless night. The older men complain as they feel that promise of rain in their aching bones. The clouds have been bloated for days yet the drought lives on, leaving pollen to fester while the summer temperature hits an exhausting peak.  
  
Haruka himself looks like a drought these days: harsh and crisp, lacking the nutrients that should be God-given, yet stubborn and everlasting. He cannot imagine what must be wrong with his husband, since the man still looks at him like Haruka’s smile could water flowers.

Unfortunately, Haruka is alone at the moment. The ocean is a disillusion on this ugly, hot morning – the color of salt and fungus. Despite its lacking allure, Haruka yearns for it – he’s as vile as anything else during a parching summer, so the muck doesn’t bother him – but he received a transfusion last night and it hasn’t had time to settle. His lack of red-blood cells took a bullseye to his equilibrium and he has yet to recover, so it was probably foolish to think he might be able to swim this morning.

The clouds part like light cut from a knife and longing burns through him, but Haruka isn’t as upset with being stranded on the beach as he should be. Listening to the waves, watching the seagulls fly through the ocean spray – it’s such a quiet moment that he can hardly be unthankful. Times like these are still surreal, like being suspended in air and waiting for the drop.  
  
That drop has not arrived for six gorgeous years.  
  
Haruka and the rest of Iwatobi could possibly be sitting on a timebomb but he is relentless in enjoying the stillness: the sun’s first light, this cigarette, these pains in his weathered body that let him know he’s still alive after everything that haunts him. The universe might have its fingers on the lowest piano keys, hovering and waiting to play his swan song, but it is peaceful right now. Haruka will take it.

“Looking for another tiger?”  
  
His hand darts under his towel for a gun that isn’t there, then he recognizes the voice just as quickly. Haruka turns around and the colors of the world seem to right themselves as he regards Makoto, who still wears his pajama bottoms and a hoodie. His husband crosses his arms at the cigarette hanging limp in Haruka’s grip.  
  
Haruka stares, bewildered. “You snuck up on me.” He’s impressed despite himself.  
  
Makoto grins and the corner of his mouth is Cupid’s Arrow, a shy devil’s tail, everything that Haruka’s ever wanted. “You mean I caught you,” he says.  
  
Haruka looks down at the cigarette with a sheepish grimace. He drops it into the Coke can he brought with him, then pulls his flannel sleeves down over his hands. “Sorry.”  
  
Makoto rolls his eyes. Smoking is an argument they’ve had many times and Makoto clearly knows his limits, even if he’s still perturbed.  
  
Haruka drove the truck out here with the hopes of swimming and a look down the beach confirms that Makoto drove Gou’s silver Kia Soul, or "The Tissue Box" as Namiko calls it. The Tachibanas' three-legged German Shepard, Tango, sits in the passenger’s seat with his head slumped over the open window.  
  
Haruka frowns. “You stole Gou’s car?”  
  
“After I asked to.”  
  
“Is everything okay? You were asleep when I left. You found my note?”  
  
“Yeah.” Makoto sniffs and takes a long look at the sea.  
  
Haruka says, “We can leave if you –”  
  
Makoto smiles, a gentle hush that brings warmth to Haruka’s face. Makoto sits behind him, pulling Haruka’s back to his chest and lifting his knees around him. Haruka’s heart leaps and his breath catches before he melts into the embrace, body quickly remembering how good it feels to let go and be held. One hand falls to Makoto’s prosthetic foot while the other touches the man’s knee, and Haruka's eyes slip closed as Makoto kisses his cheek.  
  
Makoto inhales against his temple, glasses bumping Haruka’s face. “Tachibana Haruka,” he whispers, raising every hair of him. “You smell terrible. Like smoke.”  
  
Haruka chuckles and leans away from his lips. “Stop kissing me then.”  
  
“No.” Makoto cups his jaw from behind and stretches Haruka’s neck out for sleepy pecks. A flash of tired tongue and sneaky hands gets Haruka’s heart feeling like a starburst, and Makoto sighs against his hawk tattoo.  
  
Haruka shudders when Makoto nips at his ear with soft reprimanding, toes curling in the sand. “I was afraid you were going to try and swim,” Makoto tuts. “You knew better, love.”   
  
Haruka nuzzles his face in apology and intertwines their fingers. Makoto is a far better man than him for a thousand reasons, but most of all, he is saint for taking care of Haruka in those moments when he pushes himself too hard. Makoto does it the most out of the two of them, but when Haruka doesn’t have the strength for his outlets, his mind goes to bad places. His therapist calls it an addict’s trait: telling yourself there is only one way to be happy and should you not have it right now, everything will fall apart. Ever since Haruka was shot all those years ago, he’s struggled with thinking he’s stronger than he really is. Makoto has handled his frustration so gracefully, more so than Haruka ever could.  
  
“I couldn’t help it,” Haruka admits. It’s a sorry excuse, but it’s the truth, and Makoto gives him an understanding squeeze that almost brings tears to Haruka’s eyes. His gaze drifts to the ocean and his mind cannot help but fall a little deeper into somewhere fragile; there is such an inherent wrongness in him not being able to duck his head underwater and just float. “I haven’t swum in the ocean all summer.”  
  
“I know,” Makoto whispers, cradling Haruka like he is still the food he eats, the air he breathes. “And you’ve done so well being patient, but you've got plenty of summer left, honey.” He twists Haruka’s wedding ring absently. “You’ll have lots of summers to swim and plenty of better instances to worry me to death.” The half-joke makes Haruka smile just enough for his chipped tooth to show. “We don’t have to do everything at once, yeah?”  
  
Haruka stares into his face, a little breathless like he always is when Makoto reminds him that they have all the time in the world.  
  
He nearly dozes off while Makoto holds him; Haruka enjoys the rare combination of his husband’s arms and the sound of ocean waves, then he chances a curious glance at Makoto. His gaze is on the water with a haunted look.  
  
Catching Haruka’s eye, Makoto quickly looks down and his expression recovers. “Sorry, just – just thinking. I haven’t swum since…” He swallows and his prosthetic shifts, bumping Haruka’s calf. His voice breaks up tensely. “Since – all that. In the service, you know.”  
  
Shame churns Haruka’s stomach. “I should have stayed in bed.”  
  
“Imagine if you lived your entire life avoiding things that might trigger me,” Makoto chuckles. He sobers up and shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be much a life, Haru-chan.” His eyes fall half-lidded as he cradles Haruka’s hand to his heart. “You do amazing with what’s left of me. I’m not out here wishing my life was any different. Plus –” He nods at the water. “Riptides, tigers. Lots to look out for out there.”  
  
“Sounds like life.”  
  
“Don’t get cute with me.” He sighs. “I really would love to swim with you one day, but I don’t think it’ll happen soon. I had a nightmare about it.”  
  
Protective instincts make Haruka sit up straighter. “Last night? About the ocean?”  
  
“I think so.” He squints and shakes his head. “I can’t remember much, but I think it _… I…”_ He chews his lip. “I’m just worried that I’ve forgotten how to swim.”  
  
Haruka arches a brow in thought. “I wouldn't put that much stock in dreams," he hedges. "I'm not sure fate and destiny work that way." Flustered, he looks away. _You're the only thing that makes me believe in that stuff, anyway,_ he thinks.  
  
“But what if I freeze up?” Anxiety tightens Makoto's voice. “What if Namiko falls in the pool one day, or what if you _had_ went swimming just now and lost strength?”  
  
“Easy,” Haruka soothes, rubbing up his shoulders. “Namiko’s a better swimmer than I was at her age, and I didn’t go swimming just now.” His brain kicks into a silent overdrive beneath his expressionless face. He’s always been a quick thinker in dire situations and Makoto’s panic is no different. “Have you thought about trying the pool at the rehab center? I’ve swam there before.”  
  
Makoto opens his mouth, closes it. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I mean, there’s still a deep end.” His fingers draw a skittish pattern in the sand. "I just need to play my cards right."  
  
“There's no cards, Makoto. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Conviction leaves his gaze steely. “But don’t feel pressured. It’s just an option down the road.”  
  
Makoto smiles, looking more awake in his gratefulness. “I’ll think about it.” He flicks his wrist to check his watch. “We should head back home.”  
  
“Are we running late?”  
  
“No, but Kiki has separation anxiety, you know that.”  
  
Haruka huffs as Makoto helps him stand. “She’s a cat. She probably loves being alone.”  
  
“I’ll have to remember that when I catch you two having a cuddle over _Love is a Dog from Hell.”_  
  
“… you’re making breakfast for that.”

* * *

[ ](https://youtu.be/puVd61sKops) [ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s540x810/c1b6cc7e54615fef5916067be73360840abf084a.jpg)

**PICK A CARD**

_Love is a burning thing_   
  
_Do you choose The Tree or Eve?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:
> 
> _Love is a Dog from Hell_ : Authored by Charles Bukowski, whom Makoto and Haruka talk about in the first story. 
> 
> _"Love is a burning thing"_ : From "Ring of Fire", another Johnny Cash song. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Stay safe.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


	3. Chapter Two: Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Someone loves me._ That’s the thought that carries him through his most grueling days. Someone gorgeous, brave and heartfelt married him, sacrificed for him, watches over him and isn’t mean about the ridiculousness of Makoto being nervous for the first day of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> put on your detective caps, friends, it's hints galore this round

* * *

* * *

**August 9th  
7:09 AM**

[Despite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26L4ImZsUXA) being an adult and a teacher at that, Makoto still gets nervous on the first day of school.  
  
Being the new guy is not something he handles gracefully – maybe, by a miracle’s chance, it seems like he gets on just fine, but it’s always put his stomach in knots. Growing up in a military family, he moved around a lot as a kid and endured the worst cramps of his life whenever he started a new school. He was admired for being so tall at his age, but Makoto didn’t have the confidence to back it. He was awkward; he still cried openly even in middle school and his father’s inadequacy came off harsh whenever he told Makoto that meeting new people wasn’t that big of a deal. Makoto quickly learned that his only comfort was moving again and hoping for better times. His desperate optimism was probably born somewhere during those car rides from one rental house to another.  
  
After the devastating loss of his father, Makoto hoped that he would be numb to those childhood feelings of shyness and discomfort in a crowd. Boot camp, sniper school, and military life might not have been exactly like _school,_ but he still felt out of place in a way that would follow him for most of his military career – and the rest of his life, for that matter.  
  
Sousuke might have been more intimidating between the two of them, but they met each other broken and recognized that. Putting on a façade was never a necessity, not even from the start. Makoto was annoying and anxious about the smallest wrong look between his fellow soldiers; Sousuke gave _everyone_ a wrong look and was a mess at interacting and just being human. Perhaps they only came together as two mismatched halves of a very fucked up person, but they are brothers.  
  
Then there is Haruka. Makoto still wakes up in the dead of night and cannot believe the feeling of a warm body cradling him from behind. Haruka handles Makoto’s social anxiety so very softly and it is mesmerizing to this day. Life has undeniably used Haruka as a punching bag, but he’s still got plenty of care on reserve for Makoto, for all his little worries and biggest fears.  
  
_Someone loves me._ That’s the thought that carries him through his most grueling days. Someone gorgeous, brave and heartfelt _married_ him, sacrificed for him, watches over him and isn’t mean about the ridiculousness of Makoto being nervous for the first day of school.  
  
Each new class presents their own set of unique challenges, this is true – but so does every semester and each day of working in the education system. Makoto’s taught for six incredible years, yet he still doesn’t feel like a veteran educator. He’s starting out this new school year in a new grade level, so he doesn’t feel prepared at all right now.  
  
The concept of teaching is the same as it’s always been and Makoto should know what to expect, but that’s not possible in this line of work. He can’t fathom how Nagisa teaches art to all grade levels at the elementary school. Kisumi blames a lot of the worry on Makoto’s psychology minor, saying that while it’s good to know the exact developmental stage of a ten-year-old in comparison to a six-year-old, not everyone’s learning capabilities can be summarized so neatly. Caring about them is what truly matters, and Makoto puts all of himself into remembering that. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he calmed down – he’s sure these worries caused that nightmare he cannot remember.  
  
“Makoto.”  
  
He blinks and looks across the bedroom at Haruka. Makoto frowns down at his own shirt, noticing that the buttons are still misaligned. He’s been struggling with them for a few minutes, too wrapped up in his thoughts to focus, so he blushes and shrugs.  
  
Haruka notes the silence, the fumbling like Makoto doesn’t remember how to control his own hands. Haruka takes his morning medication with some tea, wincing as the handful goes down, and it’s a big handful at that: Prozac for depression and appetite, Clonidine for the cramps and tremors of a body post-addiction, and enough nasty iron pills to make everything else feel useless.  
  
Haruka then comes over with those pretty deft fingers and makes light work of fixing the shirt. He pats Makoto’s hair before tapping behind his right ear. “Do you want a cover?”  
  
Makoto is confused as he touches his hearing aid, which he forgot to put a cover on. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” He offers a weak smile. “Thanks.” He gropes for the short wire of his BTE device and tugs, letting the speaker fall out of his ear. He then unwinds the battery tucked behind his ear and a pressure-like sensation closes in on the right side of his head: deafness.   
  
Haruka takes the device to the dresser and their Siamese, Kiki, swats at him from the bed. He sucks his teeth in offense before finding where a teacup of covers sits beside Makoto’s hearing aid dehumidifier. “Do you care which one?”  
  
“No,” Makoto chuckles as he sits on the mattress to cuddle their cat. Covers are a new thing for him, and it was actually a deaf student of his that recommended them. Sometimes the battery that sits behind Makoto’s ear gets itchy or rubs uncomfortably throughout the day – his student said the same thing happened to him before his parents found silicon covers to put over his hearing aid batteries. When Makoto discovered that cotton covers feel amazing _and_ often have adorable designs on them, he was sold.  
  
Haruka slips on a cover with a cat paw-pattern and Makoto beams. “I like that one,” he confirms. Namiko picked out a whole slew of covers for him last Christmas and the reminder of her always makes him smile.  
  
“She’ll be happy to see you wear it.” Haruka hands over the device to let Makoto put it in.  
  
Makoto fiddles with his hearing aid and wonders, “Do you think she’s nervous about today? She’s gotta be.” Switching grade levels to teach the six-year-olds means that Makoto will be Namiko’s homeroom teacher for the year.  
  
“Probably not,” Haruka snorts, stepping into the closet to change out of his nightwear. “She’s not that shy anymore.” He comes out dressed and Makoto isn’t offended in the least. Haruka deals with his scars much better than he did years ago, but he still struggles with the weight loss of anemia. Makoto is sure to reassure him when that insecurity comes and goes.  
  
He watches Haruka put his wallet in his back pocket, but he leaves the pack of cigarettes on the dresser. Makoto arches a brow and Haruka glances down, mumbling, “I always forget they’re in my pocket and I sit on them, so. No use taking them with me today.”  
  
Makoto grins. “Really? That’s the only reason?” He scoots to the edge of the mattress and pulls Haruka between his knees. “It’s not because I won’t kiss you when you’re smoking?”  
  
Haruka’s brows lift at the ceiling. “Well.” He cups the sides of Makoto’s throat, fingers ticklish and light. “I’m not smoking right now, am I?”  
  
Makoto rolls his eyes on the way to kiss Haruka. He just tastes like toothpaste and heat, not like the cigarette from earlier, which pleases Makoto enough to give him a few more pecks.  
  
Haruka’s fingers are always freezing, but when he takes Makoto’s hands, it’s the best feeling in the world. Haruka mumbles, “You’ll do well today. You always do.”  
  
When Haruka kisses him again, it’s a reminder that Makoto is alive, and everything just might be all right.

* * *

[Iwatobi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8OagvXAcIw) Children’s Academy is certainly one of the nicer institutions in the city, but it’s settled into its surroundings over the years. During Makoto’s time here, the three main buildings have started to take on age due to the beachy air and fluctuating populations of students. There was more funding for maintenance when Iwatobi boasted a proper upper class; since the gang war ended, there hasn’t been much of one. A new way of life came with the constant murmur of layoffs, but those thankfully haven’t come to fruition. The talk alone was enough to make Makoto sick.  
  
Makoto doesn’t like to think about the Before, when crime dominated the politics and economy of the city, but he can admit that the more grim-eyed locals seemed to get on just fine during that chaotic time. Those same people are struggling when there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. Jobs are hard to come by; Iwatobi might offer a college, but the student population is in the hundreds and not enough classes are offered for a variety of skills. Makoto’s principal has often insisted that Iwatobi will never have an upper class again should things continue the way they are.  
  
Makoto didn’t know what that meant until he noticed some things Haruka and Rin talk about. Iwatobi’s upper class has always primarily consisted of Diamondback. Diamondback had children that needing schooling, so they sent them to the academy. It was such a cut-and-dry explanation that despaired Makoto, regardless how he’s suffered with the pay cuts over the last few years. He hasn’t had the strength to consider what this year’s higher paycheck and bigger classroom sizes might mean.  
  
Makoto is thankful no confused parents parked in the teacher’s lot this morning, though it’s certainly crowded enough for that kind of mistake. The carpool lane is backed up to the road as buses honk and struggle to make their way to the back of the school yard to drop of children. The sunshine molts into the grass and light flares off windshields so much like the ocean.  
  
Makoto takes a deep breath in the safety of his truck. He stands for just two more minutes of air-conditioned silence, dreading the trudge through the crowd before he forces himself to get on with it. Grabbing his backpack, he steps into the heat of the day and argues with all the things his brain wants to do at once. Weaving through the rush of kids and all the excited hollering makes his body clench up. Someone’s honking like mad and the sunshine on his shoulders is so hot. He wants to keep his head down when his more demanding instincts tell him to check his surroundings with piercing awareness. Anything could happen in a crowd – what if something happens to someone else? What if something happens to him?  
  
Amid the battle with himself, Makoto makes it up the stairs and into the central building. His prosthetic might already be chafing, but a lost, crying student is enough to help him remember that he has a job to do. Once the boy is settled in his classroom, Makoto recognizes someone in the crowd, hardly taller than the older children.  
  
Nagisa ushers the herd well, using his sugar-sweet charm to assist parents. His customary bandana keeps waves of blond out of his eyes and his paint-splattered apron might have seen better days, but the familiar sight is comforting.  
  
“Mako-chan!” Nagisa waves him over and thumps him on the chest. “You’re later than usual. Normally you’re here when the custodians arrive.”  
  
“Ah, yeah. I had to drop Haruka off at work.”  
  
“Yuck, the traffic around the rehab center is just _stupid._ Wasn’t much better at the high school when I dropped Chigusa off.” He looks lighter at the mention of his adoptive daughter.  
  
Makoto asks, “How’s Rei?”  
  
“Nocturnal, I think. Or something. He gets home at like, eleven and heads into the rehab center by five.”  
  
“He’s just passionate about his work,” Makoto chuckles.  
  
Nagisa pops out his hip. “You can be passionate and get eight hours of sleep, Mako-chan. Can confirm.”   
  
Nagisa then gives him the quick rundown of the latest gossip, which Makoto doesn’t exactly care for, but he’s learned over the years that it’s smart to know what not to mention around coworkers. He mentions something about one of the secretaries going to Bali over the break, which just so happens to be where the new, divorced third grade teacher also went during break. Makoto smiles and nods politely as if he can’t wait to get home and tell Haruka everything verbatim.  
  
Nagisa gets more animated about the drama and Makoto cuts in, “Oh, is Kisumi here? He texted me the other day and said I have a new student that wasn’t at open house.”  
  
“I’ll grab him and send him up to your classroom. Go sit down while you can.” He shoos Makoto away with a pat on the back.  
  
Makoto heads upstairs to unlock his classroom and when he flicks on the lights, he’s hit with a fresh wave of appreciation for Haruka. Having someone else take over his old classroom was sadder than he expected, but Haruka helped ease that by helping fix up the new classroom. He joined Makoto every weekend on break to clean, paint, and decorate. When left to his own devices, Haruka is quite the artist – and thank heavens for that because Makoto is too much of a perfectionist to get anything done.  
  
His old classroom didn’t have much of a theme but with the aforementioned perfectionist trait in mind, Makoto decided to go for it with the younger age group. He thought about what could have made him feel better as a kid, then what might help other children. As a firm believer in multimodal ways of learning, he reckons that affirmation works the same way, so cutouts of smiling suns are paired with posters that say things like “kindness matters and so do you”.  
  
The desks are arranged with nametags already set out, and the introductory assignment for the students is to draw something that makes them happy. Makoto didn’t worry about a color scheme for the room despite how much Pinterest and a one Yamazaki Rin tried to tell him otherwise; he just wants his students to have a fun environment to learn in.  
  
The first wave of parents arrives with their kids and the next several minutes consist of a lot more crying than what Makoto was used to with his ten-year-olds. He isn’t impatient nor annoyed with the situation at all; most children this age haven’t been away from their parents for long. He keeps himself at the student’s eye level when greeting them as softly as possible, though he finds that the power of distraction works best in this case. He comments on someone’s backpack, shows another where to sit, and he allows the most upset children to take a tour around the room with their parents. Makoto considers it all a success but he’s more winded than he expected to be before the first bell.  
  
Aki brings in Sayaka, the Mikoshiba’s eldest, and Makoto is pleased to see them both. The Mikoshibas have enough children to confuse Makoto, but he recognizes Sayaka from her hair – her red braid is much darker than the bright ginger her younger siblings sport. She offers Makoto a gap-toothed smile and he thinks he might be done with crying for the day.  
  
That is, until Rin and Sousuke show up with Namiko.  
  
_“You’ve just accomplished so much,”_ Rin wails, crushing Namiko in the dozenth embrace of the morning. “You were this wild-eyed toddler three years ago and now it’s your first day of school –”  
  
“But it’s not my first day of school,” Namiko muffles against Rin’s arm. “I’ve been to school before.”  
  
“You went to pre-school! Not school-school!” He sniffles and crouches down to fluff out her poofy hair. “Now you can hold real conversations and use utensils and soon you’ll be able to do math and then it’ll be your driver’s license and –”  
  
“Oi, Rin,” Sousuke grunts. “Don’t go there yet.” He kneels as well to rub Rin’s back. “Come on, she’ll be all right. You’re probably offending Makoto thinking all this is gonna go wrong.”   
  
“Sousuke,” Makoto beams. “Shut up.” He gives Rin a kinder nod. “Take your time.”  
  
“Nah, I’ll be all right.” Rin adjusts Namiko’s leather jacket and takes her hands proudly. “Be a good girl, okay? You’re brave and smart and –” He takes a breath as he gets misty-eyed again. “You can do anything so I’m sure you can have a good day.”  
  
He lets her go so she can hug Sousuke’s knee and she grins when he pats her cheek. Namiko looks around the bustling classroom with minute hesitation before she notices Sayaka. Namiko hurries over and Sousuke stares after her silently, but that one tender look is enough to rival Rin’s much louder tears.  
  
After their emotional departure, Kisumi finally knocks on Makoto’s door. “So here’s the deal,” he says as he pulls Makoto out into the hall. Kisumi blows on his clipboard to flip the page, then takes a sip of his matcha concoction. “Kid got signed up for classes the day _after_ open house.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease in alarm. “Is that even allowed?”  
  
Kisumi glances around the hall before ducking closer but he’s hardly subtle. “Principal said there was a loophole or something – I don’t think the kid was expecting to go from the public school to this one, so yeah, it’s kind of weird.” He leans back. “That being said, he’s a little nervous.”  
  
“That’s all right.”  
  
“Good. I’ll go fetch him from my office, and er –” He swivels his head as he considers how to say it. “I’ll be in my office most of the day if you need to ring me.”  
  
Makoto blinks and Kisumi says, “For back-up or anything. See you in a bit.”  
  
Makoto leaves that weirdness out in the hallway as he finishes preparing for the day. Most of the students are content to play amongst themselves while he catches a breather facing the whiteboard, pretending to write things down.  
  
When Kisumi comes back, he ushers Makoto outside where the halls are much quieter as the start of the day approaches. Kisumi steps aside and says, “This is Misaki.”  
  
The boy looks much more weathered than the average six-year-old. His age is definite, but he looks mad at the world in a way most kids don’t that age. This isn’t a behavioral problem; something taught this child how to be intimidating.  
  
_Scrapper._ For some reason, he remembers Haruka using that word before.  
  
Makoto crouches down to the boy’s eye level and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Misaki.”  
  
He looks at Makoto for three seconds before letting out the flattest, most unimpressed, “Hi.”  
  
Taken aback, Makoto composes his expression. “Class is just about to get started, if you’d like to put your backpack up.”  
  
Misaki glances through the crack in the classroom door, eyes sharpening, then he relaxes and shrugs.  
  
Makoto clears his throat. “Ah, Kisumi – I’ll need another desk since I didn’t know Misaki would be joining the class.”  
  
“On it.” He flurries away with a whip of his pastel shawl. Misaki arches a brow after him before turning to Makoto dryly.  
  
Makoto opens his mouth. “Anyway, I’m excited that you’re joining us, Misaki. I’m sure we’ll have a great year.”  
  
Misaki scratches at his shirt, where a faded guitar design is flaking away. He doesn’t say anything before bypassing Makoto to step into the classroom.  
  
Makoto reels and hurries after him. 

* * *

The first few hours are as perfect as an elementary classroom can be. Most of the kids cheer up after a while and start warming up to the other students; just a handful of them are still teary from missing their parents. Makoto gets a little more lenient with the introductory project and lets the kids play around the classroom once they are finished with the initial assignment, which cheers the kids up.  
  
He sharpens crayons and offers praise to every scribble shown to him. It’s always interesting to see how the students interpret a task, especially a creative one like drawing something that makes them happy. One boy, Kaoru, draws aliens. Makoto assumes (and hopes) he learned about them in a comic somewhere. Sayaka draws a plate of strawberry cupcakes that her mother made when Sayaka lost her first tooth. Namiko draws stick figures of her family including both dogs and Makoto can only imagine how Rin will wail about that.  
  
Misaki isn’t doing much socializing. His desk is at the back corner of a row and though he does the assignment without complaint, he looks tired with it. His chin is propped on his hand as he scribbles black crayons down to the nub. Everyone else is already finished with their drawing yet he’s still just sitting in his desk.  
  
Makoto goes over to the boy and says, “What did you draw, Misaki?”  
  
Misaki flips the paper around to show him and Makoto’s brows jump. It’s one of the most impressive pictures of the day if only because Makoto instantly knows what it’s supposed to be: a tiger.  
  
“Oh wow,” Makoto breathes. “Misaki, that’s wonderful! Tigers are what make you happy?”  
  
Misaki shrugs though he upturns his nose, pleased with the reaction.  
  
Makoto squints at the picture. “Aren’t you going to color it in?” At the boy’s confusion, Makoto adds, “You know, since tigers are orange. You drew the black stripes but not the orange part.”  
  
“It’s not an orange tiger,” Misaki says like it’s obvious. “It’s a white one.”  
  
Makoto frowns. “Oh. Like – like the one that was on the beach a while back?”  
  
Misaki points to the picture with emphasis. “This is a baby. A white tiger baby.”  
  
“You mean a cub?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
Makoto wasn’t expecting something that specific, but the creative vision is impressive. “That’s awesome. Did you see it at a zoo somewhere?”  
  
Misaki peels the wrapper off his black crayon. “I just like them.”  
  
Makoto nods enthusiastically. “Me too! I love cats.” He nods at the picture. “Does this tiger have a name?”  
  
Misaki stares down at the drawing as something weighs on his expression. In dull monotone, he says, “Blizzard.”  
  
Surprised, Makoto’s expression softens. “That’s a great name, Misaki.”  
  
The boy grunts and starts folding up the edges of his paper as a clear dismissal.  
  
Makoto goes over to Namiko as Sayaka braids the girl’s hair in the reading corner. He says, “Why don’t you two go ask Misaki if he wants to play?”  
  
Sayaka frowns as she looks over at him. “I can’t braid his hair.”  
  
Makoto’s eye twitches. “No,” he says slowly. “But you three could find something else to do.”  
  
Namiko stiffens up and that's enough for Makoto to remember she is still an antisocial girl – even after all these years, there’s a balance to keeping her calm, and there’s a reason why she’s only playing with Sayaka.  
  
Sayaka sighs. “I’ll go play with him if Nami-chan goes with me.”  
  
“No way,” Namiko hisses. “He looks –” She glances at Makoto before stressing to her friend, _“Bothered.”  
  
_“Things bother you too!” Sayaka gestures wildly. “He’ drew a tiger and you love wolves. They’re the same thing, basically!”  
  
Namiko gasps, appalled. Squaring her shoulders, she marches over to her desk before snatching up her drawings and prowling over to Misaki. She slaps a drawing down on his desk, which seems to wake the boy up from his bored stupor. Namiko squints between her second drawing of a wolf and Misaki’s tiger picture.  
  
Namiko demands, “Who would win in a fight? A wolf or a tiger?”  
  
Misaki considers and the seconds it takes him are held with gravity. He scratches his chin. “Wolves are dogs and tigers are cats, so. Wolves?”  
  
Namiko lifts her chin, satisfied. “Do you want to come over to the reading corner?”  
  
“I hate reading.”  
  
“Me too but just come sit with us.” When Misaki stares indifferently, Namiko says, “Saya-chan thinks wolves and tigers are the same. Come tell her they’re not.”  
  
Misaki goes with her despite that he drags his feet. Makoto considers it a success.

* * *

His class goes to Nagisa during planning period, but today Makoto is too spent to get much done. A thick haze settles over him as he stares at the spreadsheet on his desktop, clicking the help button just to see what it says. He can hardly pop back to life when Kisumi swings by, saying that one of the secretaries is headed to Starbucks and she’s taking orders for the rest of the staff. Makoto begs for something with triple espresso shots and doesn’t even care that overpriced shot of adrenaline will come out of his paycheck.  
  
“I guess Katie might not be pregnant,” Kisumi says as he props his hip on Makoto’s desk.  
  
Makoto frowns. "I thought the rumor was about her going to Bali with the new third grade teacher."  
  
"Oh yeah, that was the deal this _morning._ Now we think she's pregnant but I mean, she isn’t supposed to drink loads of coffee if she is, right? Or is that post-pregnancy? I texted Asahi about it during my break and he said that he would be able to tell if I got a lock of her hair somehow. Then again, he tried that trick on me a few months ago to see if I had strep throat and he did the spell wrong. Anyway, you’re going cross-eyed.”  
  
Makoto snaps out of his daze. He takes off his glasses to scrub his eyes and mumbles, “I feel like an embed.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“An embed, it’s – they’re usually a journalist or a reporter that goes around with military to get the scoop on operations. They’re put in the same situations as we are, but without the training.”  
  
It takes Kisumi a second to compute. “So, you feel like you’ve been thrown to the wolves? No shit, soldier.” Makoto slumps and Kisumi gives him a sympathetic pat. “All I’m saying is that there’s a reason our last first grade teacher screwed up his pension just so he could take an early retirement.” He tips his head. “Have you had any problems today?”  
  
“No?” Makoto kneads the bridge of his nose. “The kids are great; they just take another level of stamina that I’m not used to.”  
  
“You’re holding up a lot better than you think you are. Guess what – you’ve already burned through a full two hours of the workday.”  
  
_“Only two hours?”_ Makoto looks at his phone screen in distress. “Shit. Am I overreacting, Kisumi? I really shouldn’t be complaining like this when nothing bad has happened.”  
  
“Well, you’re overwhelmed, so that’s something bad that’s happened.” He breathes a laugh. “You’re not complaining, Makoto, you’re venting. The education system is a lot like quicksand: you’re neck-deep in quicksand and then someone hands you a child.”  
  
Makoto snorts. “I would have disagreed with you when I started this job, but…” He rubs his aching neck. “Yeah, I’m kinda getting that now. Still, that makes it all the more worth it.”  
  
“That’s the spirit,” Kisumi beams. He waves the little notebook he used to take Makoto’s coffee order. “Come down to the office with me and talk to some people your own age before you have to fetch your class from Nagisa.” He whispers excitedly, _“And_ we can see if the new third grade teacher is hanging around Katie.”  
  
Makoto chuckles and grabs his water bottle to fill up on the way there. “If we must.”   
  
On the way downstairs, Kisumi talks about an array of subjects at his lightning-fast pace, such as the family conspiracy about Hayato having a boyfriend and the atrocious price of break adjustments. The monotony does wonders for Makoto’s spirits and gives him something else to think about other than how sore his chaffing leg is.  
  
When he and Kisumi arrive at the front office, Katie’s back is to them and she’s on the phone. Kisumi’s still talking his head off but Makoto isn’t paying attention – Katie’s shoulders are a stiff line, her posture rigid.  
  
She drops the phone and stumbles out of her chair to hurry towards the principal’s office. The other secretary, Emica, stands up in alarm and snaps, “Katie, what’s wrong?”  
  
Katie points at the phone, mouthing for the words before a commotion echoes down the hallway. Makoto turns around – it’s probably not a big deal, it might even be nothing, but he isn’t tired anymore.  
  
Katie babbles, “Fight – a fight broke out in Nagisa’s class.”  
  
He’s dumbfounded as he meets Kisumi’s gaze, then the two of them fly down the hall. Makoto’s boot squeals as he turns into Nagisa’s classroom and there’s so much noise – kids shouting, others laughing, Nagisa’s voice above the chaos.  
  
The crowd of children withers back and Makoto steps through, but the scuffle in the middle continues. It’s only two kids, boys – Makoto recognizes one of them as Kaoru and the other is -  
  
Misaki.  
  
Makoto and Kisumi hurry to separate them and Misaki kicks and screams all the way. Nagisa helps Makoto with him but Misaki is animalistic even with a busted lip and teary eyes. Kaoru looks shell-shocked in Kisumi’s arms; pale and bruised on the chin.  
  
“Hush, Misaki,” Makoto says though it’s useless. He and Nagisa get the boy out into the hallway in time for him to wrench out of their arms. Misaki plants his back against the lockers and heaves.  
  
Winded himself, Makoto crouches to put a hand on Misaki’s shoulder. “Breathe, Misaki. You need to breathe.”  
  
Little feet skitter behind Makoto. “Kaoru started it,” Namiko shouts. “You gotta listen to me, it was Kaoru –”  
  
“Yamazaki Namiko,” Makoto says firmly. “Please go back inside Nagisa’s classroom.” After exchanging a nod with Nagisa, the shorter man leads her into the classroom, leaving Makoto with Misaki in the hallway.  
  
The boy is nearly hyperventilating. “It’s all right, Misaki,” Makoto soothes. Despite what Namiko said, Misaki could have started the fight. However, that is for the principal to decide. Right now, Makoto’s job is to keep the boy from having a panic attack.  
  
Misaki sinks to the floor and pulls his knees up as he rocks back and forth. Makoto gets his breathing under control, saying, “There, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”  
  
At that, Misaki meets his gaze. The boy’s expression holds such loathing pity, like Makoto couldn’t have said anything stupider if he tried; then he draws into himself and it’s clear that Misaki doesn’t hate him for it.  
  
He feels sorry for Makoto.

* * *

[ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s2048x3072/3b76fe53403bb087028b49ab4a68c3d02ec373e6.jpg) [ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QwB8rTOanw)

**PICK A CARD**

_"Tiger on the prowl_  
  
_East of Eden, I'm coming for you now."  
  
  
You are tired with no time to heal  
  
But life will not allow you to simply be_

_Do you move forward like the Wheel_  
  
_Or stay in place like the Tree?  
  
  
_

**YOU HAVE A THIRD CHOICE  
** _  
Do you choose to break your own Wheel?_

[ __ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjNmBfvsI7U)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
>  _"There was more funding for maintenance when Iwatobi boasted a proper upper class; since the gang war ended, there hasn’t been much of one. A new way of life came with the constant murmur of layoffs, but those thankfully haven’t come to fruition."_
> 
> Just to be clear: this isn't me saying that I think an upper class is necessary for economic balance. It's saying the opposite. This city's economy is heavily reliant on the class system, and that's one of its problems because -
> 
> _Makoto’s principal has often insisted that Iwatobi will never have an upper class again should things continue the way they are..."_ And, " _Iwatobi’s upper class has always primarily consisted of Diamondback._
> 
> The upper class of this city was Diamondback. Meaning that in order for things to work in this fucked up system, the economy relied on Diamondback's presence. 
> 
> With all that in mind, what do you think _this_ signifies for the future?
> 
> _"He hasn’t had the strength to consider what this year’s higher paycheck and bigger classroom sizes might mean."_
> 
> *cough cough hiyori cough cough*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you think and stay safe! 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


	4. Chapter Three: The Hanged Man (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka and this kid were probably born in the same gutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise update xoxo
> 
> asahi's sister is mentioned in this chapter; it wasn't until season three came out that i realized her canon name was akane, but because they're such different characters and you don't see sango much in this story, it might be better to keep her name as sango. another character named akane was mentioned back in ewoatt (very brief mention at rough rabbit). 
> 
> other than that, please enjoy!

* * *

* * *

**August 9th**  
 **11:07 AM**  
  
[Haruka](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qafquJDKEz4) doesn’t consider himself particularly lucky, but fortune favored him a few times in his life. On top of meeting Makoto and surviving an absurd amount of harm, Haruka got his best shot at normalcy through Ryuugazaki Rei. It turns out he’s as a decent a boss as he is a person – mind you, Haruka only has Miho to compare him to. Regardless, Haruka is sure that he could have a hundred bosses and Rei would still be the best.  
  
He makes an effort to work with Haruka’s fluctuating ailments, changing his job description when Haruka can’t stand up long or catch his breath. Rei’s patience is astounding even though Haruka is not a desirable employee. He doesn’t have a basic education and he doesn’t have the skillset for an impressive resume. Most of his prior “working” experience cannot be talked about, much less seen as an advantage on paper. Sure, he can read a room well, but his people skills are poor. It’s just a side effect of the life he’s lived, among other things like the aftermath of being shot. Social phobia on top of chronic pain – the courts might as well have kept his criminal record intact instead of expunging it. Haruka and so much of Freebird would have been doomed without Rei.  
  
The rest of the city wasn’t so fortunate and Haruka must keep that in mind. Not everyone had a kind, privileged person pull them out of the dark. Rei thinks Haruka is an exceptional inspiration for staying sober and sure, yeah, it’s great if people see him that way – but sobriety takes resources. Getting there and staying clean takes support.  
  
Haruka was ready to die the first time he slipped a needle into his arm. He was ready every time after that, too. It wasn’t until he met Rin that he started to reconsider, then he met Asahi, Natsuya – all of his friends. They got him back to being a person. Gou kept him there. Makoto still keeps him there and that’s what Haruka tells the addicts he watches over at the rehab center. He promises that as soon as they find that first reason to get clean, another reason will quickly follow. Every day, they will find new reasons in the flowers, in the food they eat, in the people around them and in themselves.  
  
Sometimes those addicts are stubborn and broken. Sometimes they cry through a withdrawal and others just scream. It’s all the same when they tell Haruka they haven’t found that first reason yet.  
  
“Then I’ll be your first reason,” Haruka says to them.

* * *

It’s a routine shift until it isn’t.  
  
He takes three addicts through orientation, one at a time as always. Haruka simply reads off information and answers questions, though most don’t ask. Getting clean is a depressive process and a reality without drugs starts to sink in quickly, so Haruka keeps the talking to a minimum and hurries to get the patients settled.  
  
One of the women, Hina, stops him in the middle of explaining things. She decides that she doesn’t want to get clean right now, which happens often, but Haruka pauses when he looks over her information. As always, there’s an optional space in the paperwork to write down any past affiliation to organized crime in Iwatobi. Not all addicts who are previous members of a group confess their past affiliation, but Mina wrote that hers was Rough Rabbit.  
  
Her hand covers the tattoo on her neck self-consciously, but Haruka wasn’t looking. He already knows that Rough Rabbit’s tattoo is a jackalope: a mythical horned rabbit. The tattoo normally consists of just rabbit ears and antlers, though Haruka’s seen variations. Some depict the whole rabbit; a lot of them have fangs. Natsuya’s tattoo was a gruesome creature and placed somewhere on his ribs.  
  
The problem is that Hina’s tattoo looks new.  
  
“I always thought Freebird had prettier tattoos,” Mina says as if reading his mind. She grins with rotten teeth and it’s a disturbing sight from someone in their early twenties. “Even Honeyblade’s are cooler than ours.”  
  
Nobody in Freebird cared about how their tattoos looked. They hated them all the same. Haruka says, “Was yours recently touched up?”  
  
Mina stiffens before laughing, a husk of a sound. “Yeah. The placement, it’s –” She rubs her neck. “It’d be hard to cover up. Might as well make the best of it.” She hides her hands behind her back in the seat and keeps her gaze firm on the table.  
  
Haruka smiles with one side of his mouth, the edge of a knifepoint. “Is there anything else I can do for you since you don’t want treatment?”  
  
Mina asks for clean needles and somewhere to nap. Haruka obliges, giving her the information about crisis numbers and the address to the soup kitchen before going to his new patients.  
  
The guy is in his thirties with no prior drug use and no criminal record, no affiliation. He was injured on the job at a construction site and grew addicted to his pain pills. Once he was cleared to go back to work, he lost his job because he failed his drug test. According to him, the stress drove him to take more pills until everything else just fell apart; his car was repossessed, and he got kicked out his apartment. He’s been living on the streets for only a few days and that seems to have scared him into getting clean.  
  
“You wouldn’t believe the shit these guys talk out here, man.” The guy stretches on the bunkbed and his voice is a raspy slur. He’s coming down from those pills but he’s not coherent right now. Haruka hopes he doesn’t get aggressive as he sobers up. The guy says, “Those homeless dudes called me a pussy because it’s not even cold yet.”  
  
Haruka considers. “Well, they’re partly right. It _is_ worse being homeless in the winter, which is why you need to go ahead and get cleaned up.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. Shit just got out of hand, man.”  
  
“It happens.”   
  
“Can I sleep this off? Or do I gotta – you know, talk?”  
  
“No. Someone will be by about lunch in an hour, so you have a little time to sleep.”  
  
“Great, man. Hey, man, I really appreciate it.”  
  
Haruka simply nods. Everyone has a crutch word or phrase they repeat when they’re high and while “man” might not be the most annoying Haruka’s heard, he still has other patients to attend to. He catches his breath in the hallway and Ai passes by, tossing Haruka a chocolate bar and nodding at next bunkroom. “New girl in there?”  
  
Haruka wipes his brow and shakes his head. “No.” He opens the candy with trembling hands. “I went ahead and put her in observation since she has a history of suicidal tendencies.” He takes a bite of chocolate and momentary strength blooms through him. “I think that new nurse is finishing up getting her checked in.”  
  
Ai is impressed as he pockets his hands in his duck-patterned scrubs. “Wah, Haru~! I can’t believe you got all that done. You know, you’re passed due on your lunch break.”  
  
It’s just now that Haruka notices the yawning hunger in his gut. No wonder he’s shaking. “I haven’t had time.”  
  
Ai chuckles and rolls an aching heel. “I know the feeling. Well, I’ll take over from here. You go relax!”  
  
Ai does not, in fact, take over.  
  
An overdose in the lobby is not something one person can handle themselves; Haruka joins the battle of keeping the unknown individual alive until paramedics arrive. He props the elderly man’s head up as he convulses through a seizure and when he starts foaming at the mouth, Haruka’s heart turns cold with horror.  
  
Ai uses the defib two times; the third time isn’t the charm when it comes to resuscitation, but he tries anyway. The paramedics call back after taking the old man and they let Haruka know that he was pronounced DOA at the hospital. With no identification on the man and a waiting list to get dental records back, the police send Sousuke to the rehab center to find out if the guy said anything before becoming incoherent.  
  
“Not that I know of,” Haruka mumbles. He flicks ashes off the cigarette he bummed from Natsuya, who was apparently in the building when the panic unfolded. Haruka must have been too shook up to notice and he doesn’t like that. Awareness makes him feel safer more than anything else, so he can’t be getting overwhelmed like this.  
  
Sousuke rakes through his hair, scalp baking in the sun as he questions Haruka. Haruka crouches while he smokes and if Sousuke knows he’s too spent to stand, he doesn’t mention it just yet.  
  
Sousuke asks a few more standard questions before crossing his arms. “Did you puke on yourself?”  
  
“No, the old man did.”  
  
“You need a pair of clothes? My gym bag’s in the car.”  
  
Haruka stares down at his skinny knees for a good minute before tucking them together. “It’s okay.” He flicks his bangs out of his face, trying for nonchalance. “I’ll grab some scrubs or something.”  
  
“You got a problem with my clothes? You used to bum shorts or whatever anyone had with them when you used to go to the gym.”  
  
“Thanks, but I look like a twig and I can’t even fucking stand up right now.”  
  
Sousuke rolls an apology around in his mouth, then he cuts to the chase. “Are you all right?”  
  
Haruka looks up sharply and flicks his ashes with more attitude than necessary. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He takes a stubborn pull, and the divine haze of nicotine pulls the truth right out of him. “Okay. So, what if I’m not?” Haruka offers a tired smirk and Sousuke looks off with a chuckle.  
  
He lets Echo out of the squad car so she can relieve herself in the parking lot, then he and Haruka get in the front of the cab for some air conditioning. Sousuke stares at the rehab center as he says, “It’s a tough business you’re in.”  
  
“Back at you.” He blows smoke all over the squad car’s fancy controls just to drive that point home. “How’s Nii? I haven’t seen her in a while.”  
  
“She’d be promising to piss on your grave if she saw you push yourself this hard.” Sousuke fans out his uniform shirt as his brows crease behind his Aviators. “Same as usual. She goes out drinking with Natsuya if it’s not with me. They always go to Samezuka, so she’s got people watching after her.” He lowers his head to give him a stern look over his sunglasses. “You don’t need to be worrying so much.”  
  
“Goddamn, _I’m not,”_ Haruka snaps. Exhausted, he sinks into the hot leather of the passenger’s seat. He wipes his slick forehead before tossing his cigarette out the window, and he lets it up so the air conditioning can work better. “Thanks.” Haruka rolls his hands up in his crusty shirt. “Sorry. This afternoon was hard.”  
  
Sousuke picks fur shedding off his pants with a frown. “What, about that guy dying?”  
  
He flinches. “Yeah.”  
  
“You’ve had people overdose here before, and I know you’ve seen a lot worse. What was so different about this?”  
  
“I honestly don’t know.” His eyes widen with it. “Just – just something about him.” He grits his teeth and swallows, stricken. “Sousuke, I could have been him. I _was_ him.”  
  
Sousuke sighs and gives him a hard clamp on the shoulder. “Yeah,” he concedes. “But you’re not anymore, and I’m not saying you’re better than anyone, but you’d never let yourself go down that path again. I’d stake my life on it, I’m serious. It’s like you’ve said before: there’s a million reasons to stay sober. You would stay sober if you only had one reason.”  
  
“Makoto?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but yourself, too. You got sober before you met Mako, didn’t you?” Haruka frowns at his smug expression and Sousuke’s grin widens. He takes a sip of coffee that smells nauseating in the heat of the day. “Are you having withdrawals? Stronger than usual, I mean.”  
  
“No,” Haruka snorts. He chews his lip where it’s scarred. “I’d die before I ever used again, so that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m saying that if I’d never met Rin or Gou or Makoto or –” He picks his bloody cuticles, refusing to look down at the circular scars that dot his complexion. “If I didn’t have my family. If something happened to them –” His mouth hardens into a line.  
  
“I get it, Haru,” Sousuke says quietly, nudging him to stop picking his nails. “But you know better than anyone that stressing out gets you nowhere. You’re still the coldest son of a bitch I know. Start mean-mugging like you used to and I promise nobody will touch the people you love with a ten-foot pole.”  
  
Haruka smirks, his thanks passing through the silence.

* * *

Gossip travels fast through the rehab center and word about Haruka being faint gets to Rei. That plus the tough break this afternoon means that Haruka receives a lighter work detail for the rest of the day than usual: helping Natsuya and Asahi change the air filters around the center.  
  
Usually, Natsuya is the handy man of the place, but there’s a lot of filters to replace and he can’t situate them as fast as Asahi and Haruka can with their full sets of fingers. His standard tasks for odd jobs like this are not often so tedious and operating heavy machinery as a construction worker is much easier than handling the little tools this operation requires.  
  
At least, that’s the speech he gives Haruka while he vapes and watches Asahi do all the work. _“You_ look like a little tool with that thing,” Haruka grumbles, nodding at Natsuya's vape pen.  
  
“I couldn’t agree more,” Natsuya beams before taking another rip. He disappears in the outrageous cloud of smoke. “Doesn’t hold the same elegance as a cigarette, eh?” He fans the smoke away with a cough. “Christ, this tastes awful. Like a sweaty ass. Or a horse. Or like a horse that’s been smoking.”   
  
“You’ll get used to it!” Asahi’s head pops through the missing ceiling tile as he reaches down for the air filter Haruka’s holding. “You should try that bubblegum flavor I mentioned, man. Way better than horse ass.” Haruka climbs halfway up the ladder to hand the filter off, then Asahi barks, “Oi, Natsuya, what’s up with Ikuya? He keeps leaving me on read and I’d be lying if I said my feelings aren’t starting to take a beating.”  
  
Natsuya grins with a flash of white teeth; his tan is russet from outdoor work this summer. “Ah, you know how he gets. It’s probably just a phase.”  
  
“He’s twenty,” Haruka says flatly.  
  
“He needs space sometimes is all.” Natsuya ruffles up his curls sheepishly. “And I _might_ be checking on him at Seven Tears every few nights. He hates it but if Ikuya’s complaining, then he’s fine.” His expression tightens from a stressful memory. “It’s when he gets quiet that you need to worry.”  
  
Haruka changes the subject, adjusting his borrowed scrubs. “What about Nao? He’s never called out of work before and he hasn’t been here all week.”  
  
Now Natsuya is blatantly concerned. “He’s still recovering from that migraine. I’m not sure if they’re even supposed to last this long, but Nao’s been sleeping too much for me to ask. It’s killing me, seeing him like this.” He rubs over the sparrow tattoo on his hand. “It’s not like him to get sick.”  
  
Asahi climbs down the ladder and hops to the floor with a grin. “Careful, Natsuya, or you’ll make us think that Nao’s human like everyone else.”  
  
“Doubtful,” Natsuya chuckles. “His body might only be playing catch-up. He’s been working hard these last few weeks.”  
  
Haruka certainly gets that. This afternoon wasn’t the first overdose of the summer.  
  
The three of them take a break in the employee lounge and Asahi gives Haruka all the chocolate and crushed ice he can handle. Asahi might look odd in those basketball shorts and oversized boots but when he turns on some obnoxious comedy show, his booming laugh is good for the soul. Natsuya brings Haruka a simpler comfort with his presence alone. It’s unspoken that they are watching over him like they used to when his iron was low, when he was fainting several times a day. In the back of his mind, Haruka realizes that he’s luckier than he ever realized.  
  
Asahi gags after he tries Natsuya’s vape pen, then he says, “Did the paramedics say what that dude overdosed on?”  
  
“Heroin,” Haruka sighs.  
  
“Makes sense.” Natsuya holds his elbows in contemplation. “I overdosed once. Nao said I was foaming at the mouth.”  
  
An uncomfortable sadness passes through the group. “That’s not specific to heroin,” Haruka says. “But, um. Yeah. It was heroin this time.”  
  
Asahi blows out an exhale. “I’m so glad I’ve stuck to weed.”  
  
Natsuya grins. “Guess it makes since that you still smoke, since you don’t get drug tested at the florist.”   
  
“Hell nope, not when my mom’s the owner.” Asahi sobers up. “She ain’t doing good.”  
  
Haruka sits up in concern. “Is she worse?”  
  
“Eh.” Asahi scratches at the toucan tattoo on his thigh. “She’s about the same, which ain’t _good,_ but – I guess it’s better than gettin’ worse. Chemo is just kicking her ass. She hates all that chemical shit. She’s so mad at me and Sango for asking her to get serious treatment.” He shakes his head to himself. “Obviously, I _do_ believe in holistic medicine, but this shit’s been too big and scary for tea leaves and sage.”  
  
“You love your mom, Asahi,” Natsuya reassures. “I’m sure she knows that deep down. I imagine it’s hard to be nice when you’re –” He winces and tries to rephrase what he was about to say.  
  
Asahi arches a brow. “When you’re in all that pain? Yeah, I know.” Though his voice is low, his optimism is a thousand watts. “Maybe she’ll luck up soon. Anyway – I was asking what that guy overdosed on because there’s been some drama at Samezuka.” He leans forward. “Chick got caught using Desomorphine in the bathrooms the other night – otherwise known as _Krokodil.”_  
  
Asahi and Natsuya jump when Haruka slams his ice cup down on the table, scattering chips onto the floor. He throws his arms out in exasperation. “What is Rin even doing? Why didn’t I get a phone call or an email or a goddamn smoke signal when that happened?”  
  
“I haven’t heard of Krokodil since Haru was making it,” Natsuya says, craning back. “Perhaps someone’s a copy-cat?”  
  
“Or the Bloodhounds are up to something.” Stress rakes Haruka’s body. “That product was specific to the outskirts because it’s so difficult to make. You need to be in the middle of nowhere to get away with it.” He gets up from the table and gropes for his phone. “I need to call Rin.”  
  
“Hey.” Asahi takes his frail wrist and implores Haruka to sit down. His voice softens. “Tomorrow’s Hitomu’s birthday. Give Rin a day, yeah?”  
  
Haruka pauses, then accepts with a guilty nod. “Sousuke didn’t mention anything about Krokodil when I saw him earlier.”  
  
“Then it’s probably nothing,” Natsuya says as he kicks at the ice on the floor, leaving a streaky mess. “Just Iwatobi being fucked up as usual.”

* * *

When it’s quitting time, Haruka clocks out and waits for Makoto in the lobby as he always does. It’s more challenging after what happened right here in the lobby today, but Haruka stubbornly clings to his routine. He scrolls through his phone and pretends that the air still doesn’t smell like puke. He lasts ten minutes before he rises and marches outside into the evening heat.  
  
Haruka sits on the curb and doesn’t even bother with his phone again. The clouds hang low as they were this morning, yet it still hasn’t rained, and he's annoyed about missing the sunset behind that dark curtain for no good reason.  
  
The rush hour is packed on the road as pedestrians wander the sidewalks. Haruka assumes Makoto is stuck somewhere in traffic, so with a lurching heart, he waits for that green pick-up. He also people-watches, not minding crowds when they are at a distance, and he notices a young boy break from the flow.  
  
His surprise peaks as the boy walks across the parking lot to stand right in front of him. Haruka thought he saw a lot of himself in that addict earlier today, but he recognizes even more in this kid: the unconvincing swagger of his gait, the tattered shirt, the busted lip. He and this kid were probably born in the same gutter.  
  
The boy’s eyes narrow on Haruka’s scrubs. “Do you work here?” He points at the building.  
  
Haruka considers. The kid has some gnarly body odor and his sneakers are worn, meaning he probably walked a long way to get here – or ran. “Yes,” Haruka says. “Do you need help?”  
  
He ignores the question. “I think my mom is in there. Can she come out?”  
  
Conflicted, Haruka shuffles to his feet. “What’s her name?”  
  
“Mina.”  
  
He thinks back to this morning and confirms it in his mind, then he frowns. “Have you been alone all day?”  
  
“No.” The boy shoulders his backpack higher. “I went to school.” When it’s clear that Haruka isn’t convinced, he rolls his eyes. “I got in a fight at school.”  
  
Haruka raises his brows. “Who should I say is asking for Mina?”  
  
“Misaki.”  
  
“Do you want to wait in the lobby?”  
  
The boy follows him inside and Haruka heads toward the bunkroom. Thankfully, Mina is still taking that nap. She’s been asleep for over eight hours, so either she didn’t sleep last night or she’s coming down. The fact that she asked for clean needles makes Haruka think the latter.  
  
Gently, he nudges her awake, but his tone isn’t as kind. “Your son is here.”  
  
The woman’s brain takes a minute to catch up before she deflates. “Damn it.” She clears her throat and the wet sound her lungs give makes Haruka’s stomach curl. With lethargic motions, she follows after him to the lobby.  
  
It’s not the customary reunion between parent and child, though Mina offers a crooked grin. “Hey, kid.” She combs through his hair before snorting at his lip. “Someone try to take your lunch money?”  
  
“Sure.” Misaki grins just like his mother, all askew, not meeting his eyes.  
  
“I’m almost ready to head out.” Mina looks at Haruka and her tongue points into her cheek. “Could I get some of those things we were talkin’ about earlier?”  
  
Haruka doesn’t have loads of professionalism, but it takes all of it not to stare in disbelief. He catches himself because he cannot judge a situation he doesn’t know. Haruka will be the first to admit that it’s difficult for him to handle parents on drugs, and he must work harder on that. The resentment for his own past should not get in the way of helping someone in the present.  
  
He simply has a hard time understanding why Mina wants those needles when her biggest reason to _not_ want them is standing in the lobby.  
  
He returns with a grocery bag full of unused syringes, but he doesn’t give it to her just yet. “You’ll need to sign for them,” he tells Mina, nodding at the front desk. “The secretary can give you the clipboard.”   
  
Mina makes sweaty fists, probably impatient. She heads over to the desk just as the front door dings and Haruka could fall to his knees at the sight of his husband. He wants to throw this bag right out the window, and his phone can go with it for that matter. He doesn’t want to hear about how his world might be ending because in this moment, Haruka cannot take it. Only when he is this vulnerable can he admit that he wants to find somewhere cool and dark where Makoto won’t let anyone expect anything out of him.  
  
Makoto beams and limps over to embrace Haruka, lifting him to his toes. Haruka was ready to lecture Makoto about his prosthetic but his arms drain the fight out of him. Haruka’s mouth parts, eyes closing in relief as he lets himself be cared for, just for a second.   
  
Makoto kisses his cheek on the way to lean back and look at him. “How are you, honey?”  
  
“Sleepy.” He taps Makoto’s right foot with his own. “I bet you are, too.”  
  
He shifts his weight to his real foot. “Long day. How about we eat out instead of cooking? I’m honestly too lazy for it tonight.”  
  
“I didn’t know you cooked.”   
  
Makoto scoffs a laugh. “All right then, let’s say I’m too lazy to watch you cook tonight. Better?”  
  
“Much. Just give me a minute.”  
  
Makoto follows Haruka’s gaze to the waiting area and stills as Misaki looks up at him. “What in the world,” Makoto breathes. Without explaining, he goes over to the boy with his hands on his hips. “Misaki, what are you doing here?”  
  
“Waiting for my mom.”  
  
Makoto notices the woman at the counter and his shoulders tighten. “I see.” He’s at a loss for words.  
  
Mina comes back to take the grocery bag from Haruka, and she smiles in confusion at Makoto. He introduces himself in a stupor, then says, “We tried to contact you after the incident in class.”  
  
Mina tenses even as she laughs. “Sorry about that. Misaki can still go to school though, right?”  
  
“He and the other student received three days suspension from the principal. I gave Misaki all the classwork we’ll be doing in his absence.” Makoto hesitates before his good nature gets the best of him. “The school nurse told Misaki to keep ice on his lip. There’s some ice packs here and I’m sure the staff wouldn’t mind giving you one if you need it.”  
  
Mina wrings the bag strap through her hand until there's marks. “He’ll be fine.”  
  
“I already put one in there.” Haruka nods at the grocery bag and lifts his chin.  
  
Mina smiles sharply. “Thanks. Well, we’ll be off. Say bye, Misaki.”  
  
“Bye.” He takes his mom’s hand and pauses. “I’ll do my homework.”  
  
Happiness takes the tension from Makoto as he chuckles. “Sounds good.”   
  
Haruka studies Misaki and his heart twists when he remembers another little boy not unlike himself. The kid was caught in another one of these nightmarish scenarios, chasing after loved ones on drugs - only those loved ones were Natsuya and Nao, not a parent.   
  
Misaki bows shortly before his mom leads him out, dragging him more than guiding him. Once they are gone, Haruka and Makoto speak at the same time: “You know him?”  
  
“He’s in my class,” Makoto explains first. “He got in a fight with another student and had to spend the rest of the day in Kisumi’s office because we couldn’t get in touch with his mom.”  
  
“It looked like he walked here,” Haruka says. “I didn’t see him get off the bus or anything.”  
  
“He couldn’t have walked all the way across town. He probably rode the bus, then walked here.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s too hot out for that. Was his mom here all day?”  
  
“Pretty much.”  
  
Makoto rolls his neck, failing to dispel his anxiety. “I don’t like this,” he mutters to himself.  
  
At a loss, Haruka can only take his hand. "Do you mind if we eat at Seven Tears?"   
  
"Fine by me." Makoto seems curious.   
  
"I think I need to check on Ikuya." 

* * *

[ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s2048x3072/3b76fe53403bb087028b49ab4a68c3d02ec373e6.jpg) [ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7PuJQ7ycFA)

**PICK A CARD  
**  
 _Have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?_  
  
 _What about the snake and how his plans will unfold soon?_  
  
 _And the bird - what do you think the bird should do?_  
  
 _You have three choices - use only one as your bait._  
  
 _Do you choose the rabbit, the bird, or the snake?_ **  
**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just really excited for the next chapter that's all i'm gonna say lol
> 
> please let me know what you think and stay safe. thank you so, so much if you've left me a comment, it means the world to me! happy valentines if you celebrate it <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


	5. Chapter Four: The Lovers (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your hands are my hands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> over two years ago, i dreamed up a handful of scenes that made me want to write an ewoatt sequel. this is one of them. i've waited a long time for this and i hope you enjoy.

* * *

* * *

**August 9th**  
 **5:30 PM**  
  
[They](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WApyq4p_CIA) arrive at Seven Tears with the rest of the dinner rush. Haruka hopes it won’t take long to be seated; he dozed off on the drive over and he’s not fairing well as the host chats with Makoto. He wavers and locks his knees, sneaking his fingers through Makoto’s for stability. Makoto gives him a questioning look but Haruka doesn’t want to go home. The promise of a hot meal that he doesn’t have to cook is more enticing than his own bed, and it’s sure to be a lovely dinner. Aromas attack him from all sides: meat on a charcoal grill, lobster fresh from the tank, savory potatoes.  
  
The booth creaks as Haruka’s body sinks into the worn cushion. The plaster is breaking apart and curling with age, but the familiarity of Seven Tears is more important than comfort. Like the tide, this dusty nautical décor pulls Haruka back into the past when happiness was a stranger to him. How many times did he and his friends sit around one of these tables and wonder what they were going to do? They fought for laughter here, listened to the fishermen at the bar as they laminated with sea shanties. Now this is a place that Haruka and his husband take refuge after a long day. That means something to him.  
  
Mori, his aunt, started waiting tables about a year ago and she goes out of her way to take care of him and Makoto for their meal. Haruka says, “Do you know if Ikuya is working tonight?”  
  
Mori redoes her ponytail, then fans herself with her notepad as she tries to remember. She and Haruka have never looked more different. As the years ticked on, it became clear that he took after his mom more than he wished. He’s pale enough to have noticeable blue undertones and his frame advertises sorry genetics with sharp-boned features to match. Age proved that Sousuke is more like Mori and the father he shared with Haruka: dark hair that isn’t colorless, eyes that sit well on the face. That side of the family is physically capable and quick on their feet. Haruka is just… cold.  
  
Mori says, “Ikuya was supposed to be here about ten minutes ago. He’s been running late his last few shifts.”  
  
Makoto winces sympathetically. “He probably has a lot of homework.”  
  
“Eh, well –” Mori cuts herself off. “I’m not sure. Are you boys ready to order?”  
  
Haruka gets the smoked mackerel salad with apple and beetroot, then he surprises himself by ordering a small portion of baked salmon. Makoto is pleased before ordering himself the chicken special and a new drink called the Dry Guppy.  
  
Once Mori leaves to place their orders, Haruka says, “Aren't you the one that always complains when I order the same thing?”  
  
“Ah-ah.” Makoto holds up a hand. “Chicken is my comfort food. I will not have you slander it.”  
  
Haruka grins and swirls some creamer into his coffee mug. “Talk about your day.”  
  
Makoto props his chin in his hand. “I just wasn’t prepared.” He pulls a frustrated expression and busies himself with folding his cloth napkin. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”  
  
“I really don’t believe that.”  
  
“I’m serious, it was way too much for me. I was out-of-my-mind tired only a few hours into the day.” He folds the napkin corners in on themselves a few times. “Then Misaki and that other kid got into a fight and I was done. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Makoto pouts as he offers Haruka the napkin flower he just made.  
  
Endeared, Haruka takes it and places it in his lap. Mori brings out that Dry Guppy, a concoction of orange sherbet and whiskey, and Makoto loosens up after a few sips. He wears the most handsome flush when he drinks. “I just wanna do a good job,” he says. “I need to be able to keep up with my students.” He flicks his straw sadly and it spins around the lip of the glass. “I cried in my truck for fifteen minutes after school, did I tell you? I was so overwhelmed.”  
  
Distress climbs Haruka’s throat. “Makoto –” He pushes the drink away to grab both of Makoto’s hands and stares into his face imploringly. “You can be overwhelmed but you can’t be angry at yourself about it. Please. Gou still says you’re the best teacher she ever had, and I know other students feel the same.”  
  
Makoto doesn’t respond for a time. His thumbs run circles around the scarred eclipses on Haruka’s hands, then he confesses, “The principal was an asshole about it. Even though the fight wasn’t in my classroom, they were still my students. He was all like, ‘what made them think they could act out like that’?”  
  
“Give me his number.” If Makoto says you’re an asshole, it's going on your tombstone.  
  
Makoto smiles and squeezes his hands before sitting back. “I can handle it. When he said that, it was just too much after the day I’d had. I didn’t even know how to respond. Nagisa and Kisumi couldn’t believe it either.” He tips his head in that adorably curious way of his. “Come to think of it, Kisumi might have a sixth sense about kids acting out. He was telling me all day to call him if I had any issues in class.”  
  
It isn’t often that a territorial instinct roils up in Haruka, but Kisumi is a shameless flirt – taken and monogamous, but shameless. Remembering that is like wild incarnate. “Why was he saying that? Was there context?”  
  
“He said it after introducing Misaki – he’s actually a new student from the public school – then a second time when I mentioned how stressed I was.”  
  
Haruka mulls it over, his distaste fading. “Are you allowed to see a transfer student’s records?”  
  
“What, from their previous school? I’ve never asked. I get to see their grades so I can take note of what they’re struggling with or excelling in, but as far as behavioral stuff –” It takes him a beat to catch up. “Kisumi could see that.”  
  
“Then Misaki probably had behavioral issues at his last school and Kisumi was trying to warn you.”  
  
“Well. I appreciate his effort, but duh.” Makoto gnaws the inside of his cheek. “I’ve also been thinking about something else.” He hesitates. “Stop me if you’re not supposed to talk about things like this outside of work. I don’t want to be judgmental of anyone, I’m only… apprehensive.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“What are the odds that Misaki’s mom could even afford to send him to the children’s academy?”  
  
“It’s possible.” He glances around to ensure the booth behind them is still empty. “Rin and I paid Gou’s tuition in cash. I remember there were no questions.”  
  
Makoto is alarmed. “What do you mean?”  
  
“We didn’t have any sort of substantial paper trail. We had some certain documents for the beach cabin, but a lot of that was forged. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to realize it.”  
  
“That’s – Haruka, that’s not normal for places to –”  
  
“I’ve told you before that the city’s high and mighty were Diamondback. They were rich but not on paper, so accepting cash is more common than you think.”  
  
That doesn’t placate Makoto one bit. He starts to squirm. “Yeah, but to enroll a kid in school? That’s strange.”  
  
“I guess. It’s not an anonymous transaction, though, since Kisumi had Misaki’s contact information.”  
  
“It’s still fishy, Haruka,” Makoto says. “It’s underhanded and it makes me nervous because I’ve worked there for six years and had no idea about this.”  
  
Embarrassment burns through him. “Sorry. I would have mentioned it if you’d asked.”  
  
“I know sweetheart, that’s not what I’m saying.” He strokes his chin grimly. “I don’t think Kisumi knows things like that are going on. Nagisa certainly doesn’t.”  
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
“Kisumi mentioned a loophole that granted Misaki admission after open house; he wasn’t aware of it.” Makoto smirks. “You think he could hide dirt like this? Kisumi doesn’t like it when someone tries to get the best of him. He wouldn’t take that quietly.”  
  
Haruka thumbs his mug handle. “I’d be careful mentioning it, Makoto. I won’t stop you, but if you think something weird is going on –”  
  
“We’ve already confirmed something _very_ weird is going on.”  
  
“No, something… something you can’t handle.” He looks him in the eye. “If you decide to look more into the situation, just be mindful. Under-the-table dealings clearly aren’t new for the principal and I don’t want you to freak out, but I promise more people are in on it than him.”  
  
“You think there’s an even bigger situation at hand?”  
  
“Not personally, no. However, our views on what makes something a ‘situation’ are different.” He tries to put it in simple terms that won’t frighten Makoto. “The administration knows what paying with cash means. It’s common knowledge that the biggest payouts are from organized crime, so they probably knew where that money was coming from. They were comfortable taking it. I don’t know how deep Diamondback had its fangs in the education system back in the day, but if the administration has any awareness of Diamondback, then they’re aware of me and they’re aware of you.”  
  
Makoto stiffens but Haruka doesn’t falter, saying, “You weren’t fired after marrying me, so I don’t see any signs of allegiance. I think you’ll be fine if you want to look into this, is what I’m saying.”  
  
Makoto is winded. “You’re that confident I’d be all right? It sounds so serious now.”  
  
“I’m confident you can take care of yourself, plus –” He stops short. “We can talk about something else.”  
  
“No, it’s okay. Say it.”  
  
It shouldn’t be this easy to call on his darker instincts of tooth-and-nail protection. “You’re my husband and Iwatobi knows that. There’s a reason nobody’s ever been stupid enough to touch you.” Makoto stares for a beat and Haruka pulls back. “Did that make you uncomfortable?”  
  
“Uh.” Makoto averts his gaze, flustered. “It was actually –” He clears his throat. “Kind of hot. I don’t know why.”  
  
Haruka teases a smile. “Really?”  
  
“You’re unbelievable.”  
  
Displeased mumbling comes from the front of the restaurant as someone cuts through the line of guests at the door. Ikuya keeps his eyes down and his earbuds in as he goes behind the bar to clock in; he’s wore that same pair of black skinnies the last three times Haruka’s seen him and it looks like he’s living out of that tie-dye tee.  
  
When Ikuya pulls his hair back, there’s a blotch on his throat. It’s safe to say Natsuya has no idea his little brother is getting hickies; Haruka would have heard about it because Natsuya would have sent out a text alert or shined a Bat Signal across Iwatobi.   
  
Makoto says, “Aren’t you going to say hi?”  
  
“I’ll wait a bit.” It would be awkward approaching Ikuya at the same time his manager is about to chew him out.  
  
Mori brings their food and Haruka had every intention of checking up on Ikuya from a distance, but one bite into his salmon wakes up something in his brain that demands more. His body suddenly recognizes that it needs nourishment so his worries take a backseat and he lets himself eat all he can.  
  
It’s a little heartbreaking how proud Makoto looks when there’s nothing left to scarf down. He says, “I bet you’ll sleep amazing tonight.”  
  
Haruka stares at his empty plate in disbelief. “I haven’t eaten that much in a while.”  
  
“Your Prozac dosage was bumped up a few months ago, right?” Haruka nods and Makoto takes out of his phone, scrolling as he searches for something. “I think that’s what did it.” He shows Haruka the article on the screen. “It can kick up your appetite.”  
  
 _Although many patients initially do maintain or even lose weight during the first few months on Prozac, a small percentage of people eventually gain weight, especially with long-term use, which means longer than six months..._[[Read More]](https://www.verywellmind.com/prozac-and-weight-gain-1067021) _  
_  
The hope that shines through Haruka is so personal that he barely recognizes the feeling. He doesn’t know how to want good things for himself alone, but this – he wants it like a frenzy.  
  
“Makoto,” he breathes. “I might get strong again.”  
  
Makoto’s gaze reassures that Haruka is already strong, but an even deeper understanding makes him squeeze Haruka’s hand. “I have every faith you’ll become who you want to.”  
  
As consuming as self-consciousness is, the sensitivity is important to Haruka, and it’s obvious that Makoto knows that. Life hasn’t given him the luxury of worrying about what he looks like and now that he has time for it, it’s really been a problem as of late. The possibility of getting his body back in working order threatens to sweep Haruka off his feet.  
  
He falls into the habit of people-watching as they wait for the check. There’s solidity in the way locals move here, a hard-bitten weariness that has softened in peacetime, but Haruka still notices it. Heightened perception in public spaces is necessary in Iwatobi and that’s something he's lacked as of late. He people-watches to relearn the process of finding uncanny exits and observing congregations that stack up in odd areas.  
  
His awareness isn’t the same as it used to be – now he considers where Makoto could hide or what Haruka could shield him with if something happened - but the mold of familiarity must break before his thoughts start going down that dark path.  
  
[Like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hJsBmgrs7I) koi upstream, Haruka notices someone break from the flow and skip the line at the door. It’s as if the person takes Haruka by the hand and sends him downstream into blackness of no revenant. Haruka couldn't tell you what it is about the guy that stands out with such wrongness – it could be anything from the slinky way he holds himself to that light saunter through the restaurant – but Iwatobi hasn’t touched this guy yet.  
  
He comes from somewhere much bloodier, and he runs it.  
  
“Haruka? What’s wrong?”  
  
He ignores Makoto in favor of keeping his focus locked on the stranger. He watches him go right to the bar, sitting in the crowded middle rather than the edge, and one of the bartenders asks what he would like but he replies with some sort of indifference. He just sits.  
  
Ikuya stands up from crouching under the bar and he pauses face-to-face with the guy. It’s clear that Ikuya isn’t good friends with him – and it’s obvious that he’s intrigued.  
  
With mounting paranoia, Haruka looks to Makoto and his husband is already observing the guy, taking in those same details Haruka noticed. Makoto recognizes a portion of considerable hostility in the guy’s demeanor, though he isn't as concerned with it. “What's wrong?"  
  
“He’s not from here, Makoto. Why is he acting like he owns the place?”  
  
“He might just be a dick and goes everywhere like that.” Makoto shrugs. “He’s wearing a suit and it’s late, so he could be from out of town on business.”  
  
“He looks young.”  
  
“Still. He could have been here last night or a few days ago.”  
  
Haruka isn’t quelled. “He wanted to talk to Ikuya.”  
  
Makoto watches them for another minute, hands steepled. He doesn’t like acknowledging that he’s in a bustling environment, not on this level – but he’s trusting that Haruka might be recognizing a threat and needs a second opinion.   
  
After a bit, Makoto says, “You don’t think he’s just gay and that’s why he’s so intent on Ikuya?”  
  
Haruka leans back, unsure but impressed. Makoto nods at them subtly and says, “He’s got his elbows on the bar, see? But his arms are spread. He’s open to getting closer.” Makoto grimaces. “Ikuya is flirting back. He isn’t being as forward, but –”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
“Give him a little credit, honey. He should be a smart kid from what you’ve said he’s gone through.”   
  
Should – that’s the word.  
  
Makoto smiles knowingly. “You’re sure this suspicion doesn’t have anything to do with Ikuya being the baby of the family?”  
  
Haruka crosses his arms stubbornly. Once Mori brings the check, the guy at the bar has already ordered a drink and Ikuya isn’t paying much attention to his other customers. Maybe Makoto’s right. Even if the guy is peculiar, that doesn’t mean he’s here with the goal of hurting someone.  
  
 _Doesn’t mean he isn’t,_ a little voice whispers in his head.  
  
“I’ll take care of the check,” Haruka says, rising from the booth. “You can go wait in the truck if you’d like.”  
  
“No thanks.” Makoto takes an obnoxious sip of his water. “I’ll watch the show.”  
  
Haruka rolls his eyes and heads for the bar. He stands at the register at the end of the counter before hearing Ikuya giggle at something from the middle, and Haruka sighs in exasperation.  
  
Ikuya gives the guy the check for his drink – one glass of white wine. He pays, then writes something on the back of the slip before handing it to Ikuya. A casual transaction if not for guy playfully hooking his finger around Ikuya’s for a moment.  
  
When the stranger rises and brushes himself off, he throws Haruka a sharp little smile before exiting.  
  
Smugly, Haruka glances at Makoto to find his husband stunned. That definitely happened.  
  
Ikuya comes over to take Haruka’s check and he’s so wrapped up in grinning to himself that he doesn’t recognize Haruka until the transaction is complete and he’s offering him a receipt. “Oh,” Ikuya startles with a blush. “Hey.”  
  
“Hi. Something wrong?”  
  
Ikuya holds his elbows a lot like Natsuya does when he’s all tensed up. “No?” He takes his hair down and flattens it out, then tucks some strands behind his ear. “What’s up?”  
  
Haruka shrugs and waits, watching him, letting him stand under the searing microscope light just a second more. Ikuya’s eyes narrow even as he flusters, but he doesn’t cave. Haruka says, “Do you know that guy that was just here?”  
  
“You’ll have to be more specific.”  
  
Haruka’s brow kicks at the attitude. “The one that gave you his number.”  
  
Ikuya works his jaw. “Don’t tell Natsuya.”  
  
“Tell him what?”  
  
“I don’t know, just don’t tell him anything. I don’t want him or anyone else in my business." He looks apologetic as soon as he spits it out. "No offense."  
  
Haruka’s expression softens. “I’m not trying to interrogate you, Ikuya. I’m only asking because he gave me a weird look on the way out.” That’s mostly it, anyway.  
  
Ikuya seems puzzled by that. He impatiently summarizes, “His name is Hiyori, he’s from out of town. He usually just asks for fun things to do around here.”  
  
“He’s been in here before?”  
  
Ikuya’s chin juts to the side and Haruka bows his head placatingly. “All right, thanks.”  
  
He digs his nails into his elbows. “You lot aren’t subtle, you know.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“You, everyone else.” Ikuya rubs flakes of sleepiness out of his eye. “If it’s not Natsuya hiding behind a menu, then it’s Aki coming by for lunch and asking if I need to use her laundry machine or whatever. Asahi texts me twelve times a day and Rin sends me outdated memes – it’s just so much.” Ikuya’s brows crease. “Nii and I still live together, so it’s not like I’m ever alone. Nobody thinks I can take care of myself.”  
  
“We don’t think that –”  
  
“Then act like it. Please.”  
  
Haruka’s mouth firms guiltily. “It was good to see you. Have a good night.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ikuya mumbles, subdued as if he already wants to take something back. He doesn’t, though. “You too.”  
  
Haruka returns to the table and Makoto rises to shuffle his weight, unnerved. “That didn't look like it went well. Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes.” Sad and kicking himself, but fine. “Let’s get home.”  
  
Makoto leads him out with a comforting hand on the small of his back; as they step into the heady night, Haruka wavers. Makoto’s grip shoots to his hip in concern and he asks, “Do you want me to bring the truck around?"  
  
Haruka blinks away the splotches in his vision. “That would be nice. Sorry.”  
  
“Hush.” Makoto kisses his forehead before settling Haruka against the restaurant’s brick siding. “Just lean on that and wait here.” Makoto pockets his hands as he walks to the corner and disappears.  
  
Haruka takes careful breaths and digs his toes into his soles. The occasional car putters by with a streak of headlights and the breeze is so faint, but it’s soothing against his damp flush. His eyes close in the lull of stillness.  
  
“Got a smoke?”  
  
The voice is a sledgehammer to the senses. Haruka looks up and Hiyori smiles from the other side of the sidewalk.  
  
Haruka doesn’t react even as his nerves shred. Two cigarettes from Natsuya rest in his back pocket along with a lighter. He can take this opportunity to smoke with Hiyori and find out what his deal is – decide whether he’s a threat, see what he wants – or Haruka can follow after Makoto and take his chances.  
  
He can’t take chances where Makoto is involved.  
  
Haruka straightens up from the wall and offers a cigarette to Hiyori before sliding the other into his mouth. He lights Hiyori’s then his own but is so shaken that he forgets to take a pull.  
  
Hiyori’s first drag is indulgent; he closes his eyes with it. “Thanks. I’m Hiyori, by the way.”  
  
As difficult as it is, Haruka doesn’t move away when Hiyori stands beside him on the wall. Hiyori crosses one ankle over the other, pinching his cigarette between pointer finger and thumb. Haruka smokes with a more relaxed grip, keeping his other hand in his pocket to hold his lighter. He’s ready to tackle Hiyori and hold the flame against his hair if need be.  
  
Hiyori openly studies him. “You look tense.”  
  
“Funny. I’m not.”  
  
He grins with his teeth. “That’s the problem with this place. Everyone looks so… unstable. I feel like I’ve missed something.”  
  
Haruka flicks his ashes, pressing his thumb down on the filter to keep his finger from shaking. “Where are you from?”  
  
“Not here,” Hiyori snorts. He takes a contemplative drag and squints. “Guess I am now, though. I moved here last week. Just started learning my way around.”  
  
Haruka folds one hand over the other in a show of nonchalance – kind of like how Hiyori crossed his ankles – and he protectively hides his wedding ring while doing so. “You like it?”  
  
“Besides everyone waiting for a bomb to go off?” He shrugs. “It’s not the worst. This ocean is different than the one I know.”  
  
“It’s all the same isn’t it?”  
  
Hiyori’s chuckle is slow to rise and Haruka tries to breathe around the stone in his lungs. “No, I don’t think so.” A passing car lights up his features in a disorienting manner. “I studied this city out of curiosity before moving. I expected people to be more chipper and relaxed here, but it didn’t take me long to realize that none of you know how to act in peacetime.” Hiyori looks him in the eye while taking another pull. “I wonder if you people are like your city. I wonder if you, too, regenerate through violence.”  
  
Haruka doesn’t break their gazes even as his nostrils flare.  
  
“I have to admit,” Hiyori continues. “There’s an intimacy to this place. The poor, the rich, the wicked – you’re all crushed together.”  
  
Haruka lifts his chin. “I don’t see it like that.”  
  
Hiyori hums playfully. “You might change your mind one day.” His eyes narrow over a smile. “Or maybe not. You aren’t very adaptable people.”  
  
“And you think you are?”  
  
“I do. Shedding one layer makes way for a new one, friend.”  
  
Headlights flare around the corner and nauseous dread spills up Haruka’s throat. He recognizes the truck as Makoto pulls it to the curb. Haruka tries to signal with his eyes, begs that the truck will keep moving, but it jerks to a stop right in front of him and Hiyori.  
  
The passenger window rolls down and Makoto leans over the console. “Ready to go?”  
  
“Just a minute.” Haruka swallows and his throat clicks. “Everything good?”  
  
“Sure.” Makoto beams at Hiyori. “Hi.”  
  
“Nice ride.”  
  
“Appreciate it.” Makoto’s smile has never been tighter, like he can’t believe the gal of some people. Whether that’s aimed at Haruka or Hiyori, it’s up for debate.  
  
Haruka says, “You can go fill the truck up at that station nearby if you want.” It’s a plea that he could collapse with, and an obvious one.  
  
“No thanks,” Makoto replies. “I’ll wait here.” Haruka grits his teeth but Makoto’s gaze is firm. The best he can do is roll the tinted window up.  
  
Hiyori grins in the tension he and Haruka are left with. He says, “Friend of yours?”  
  
Haruka just gives him a look because he’s about done with this cat and mouse game.  
  
Hiyori chuckles with bouncing shoulders as if delighted. “You know something I heard while learning my way around? It’s stuck with me ever since and I’ve been dying to see if it’s a local saying.”  
  
“I’m dying to fucking know what it is,” Haruka husks, fists clenched.  
  
Hiyori steps on his cigarette and clasps his hands as he comes closer. Haruka holds his place, refusing to back into the wall; Hiyori tips his head mockingly and wonders, “In the Garden of Eden, would you be Adam or Eve?”  
  
Haruka doesn’t break their stare as he smiles, and Hiyori falters.  
  
“I’d be neither,” Haruka says. “But I know who you’d be.”  
  
“Mm, who's that?” He inhales sharply when Haruka steps into his space.  
  
Haruka’s smile widens horribly and he whispers, “You’d be the one that gets his arms and legs cut off – the one that anybody could step on and rub into the dirt.” He leans even closer to Hiyori’s ear. “That’s the thing about snakes. They forget how small they are.” He pulls back with the cruelest glare. “Stay away from Ikuya.”  
  
 _“No,”_ Hiyori sneers.  
  
“I’m giving you an out. I don’t know what you’re doing here. I don’t know if any other previous Diamondback affiliates are stupid enough to stick their slimy little necks out for no good reason, but you’ve proved tonight that you’re not ready for whatever you came to do in Iwatobi.” He seethes, “There is no more Diamondback. There’s no more _anything._ You’re a fool for thinking there is.”  
  
Hiyori barks a laugh like jewels scraping metal. “I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about. Goodness. You should tell your friend to get you home.” He walks backward and bows. “Take care of yourself, Haru.”  
  
“You fucked up again.”  
  
Hiyori pauses with his first expression of sincerity. “Beg your pardon?”  
  
“I never told you my name.”  
  
Hiyori’s mouth hangs open before it closes in a snarl. Haruka smirks as he goes to the truck and says, “Have a good night, Hiyori.”  
  
He maintains an air of dignity while hopping into the cab; the moment the door shuts, it feels like his heart explodes. _“Go, fucking go.”_  
  
The tires squeal as Makoto slams the gas and the truck lurches into drive. “What the _hell,_ Haruka,” Makoto shouts, white-knuckled on the wheel. _“Why didn’t you get in the truck?!”_  
  
“Why did you pull up?!”  
  
“Because I had been watching you measure dicks with him for _at least_ six minutes and –”  
  
Haruka stills. “What?” He shakes his head frantically. “I thought you went to get the truck!”  
  
“I _was_ until Hiyori came up and asked _me_ for a cigarette, then I knew something was wrong.”  
  
At that, Haruka doesn’t even recognize the world outside the windshield. The lights, the sounds – it’s all so curious and far away. His ears ring as his heart pounds and Haruka says, “Pull over.”  
  
“What, no –”  
  
 _“Now.”_  
  
Makoto gets another block away. A front tire hops the curb as the truck stops and Haruka opens the door just in time to throw up.  
  
“Oh – oh, Haruka.” Hands vice his hips to keep him from falling right onto the pavement. Makoto rubs his back and offers napkins to Haruka once he’s finished. “There now,” Makoto soothes, petting his hair. “Shh, it’s all right. Shh.”  
  
[Haruka](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJgCT_D3aT4) heaves, struggling to make sense of everything around him. He shakes his head over and over as his airwaves close in on themselves. He can’t understand the feeling of the leather seat, the hands on him, this hot, spinning reality.  
  
Makoto puts a hand over Haruka’s heart and like moving through a dream, Haruka’s fingers splay across Makoto’s chest. He relishes in the wardrum beneath his palm. Makoto is scared too, yet he still has the courage to say, “It’s going to be okay, Haruka.”  
  
This is the part where he always told Makoto that nobody could prove that, but Haruka needs to believe it so desperately that he cannot make himself speak. Instead, he marvels at Makoto – every little surreal detail of him – and Haruka croaks, “You protected me tonight.” He blinks and tears spill down his face. “Thank you.”  
  
“I’m worried, but we can’t afford to get ahead of ourselves. Neither of us can handle it. We don't actually know if something's going on.” Makoto swallows. “There’s no place here for people like Hiyori anymore – it’s just like you told him and that’s what we have to keep telling ourselves.” He levels their gazes. “Haruka, this can’t be like last time.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Makoto’s eyes fall closed. “Can I please, _please_ ask you not to go after him or start anything? Please.”  
  
“I won’t,” Haruka vows. “I’d never put you at risk.”  
  
“What about yourself? Because that’s exactly what you did tonight.” Makoto hides his face against the steering wheel, sighing against it. He sits up before crossing his arms. “Can we call the police? Is there anything we can do to get this out of our hands?”  
  
“It’s not in your hands, Makoto –”  
  
 _“Your hands are my hands!”  
  
_ Stunned, Haruka can only watch as Makoto pants for air. Impassioned, Makoto stresses, “You’re my husband now. You can talk about protecting me all you want but that’s no excuse to be reckless because I can’t take it, Haruka –” His breath hitches and he wipes under his glasses. “I promise, I can’t take it if something happens to you.” He holds himself still for a moment, grappling for composure. His voice dulls with exhaustion. “I would never ask you to be defenseless. I know that each time you’ve had to fight, you’ve fought for peace. Everything we have, you nearly paid for it with your life.” He bores into him. “But you better go forward knowing that if you’re involved, we’re both involved.”  
  
“Then I won’t get involved.”  
  
Makoto reels, taken aback.  
  
Haruka puts a hand on his thigh. “I meant every word at the altar, Makoto. I’ll never stop choosing you. And for the record, if you _did_ ask me to be defenseless, I’d lie down wherever I was and let the world have at it. I’m serious.” Devotion hardens his words. “You don’t need to prove anything. You have me.”  
  
Makoto stares at Haruka’s hand before taking it in his own to shower kisses over every inch. His lips brush his knuckles before Makoto rubs his face against them, and he sighs against the skin. “Thank you,” he whispers.  
  
Haruka cups his cheek. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Nothing. Just don’t do anything. You stay out of it and leave it alone.”  
  
“All right.” He tips his head. “Can I tell my friends what happened? Not to organize anything. I just want to let them know.” He chews his lip. “Rin and Sousuke have a child now, Makoto, they need to know and have their own choice.”  
  
Makoto buckles up and does the same for Haruka, then he nods wearily. “Can you get it done tonight? I don’t want to wake up to this."  
  
“Of course."

* * *

Haruka doesn’t know how he ever functioned at this level of exhaustion, but he finds strength on reserve for taking care of Makoto that night. He refuses to let him lift a finger through showering with him or getting ready for bed and after leaving Tango and Kiki in the kitchen with their dinner, Haruka lays Makoto down. He takes his husband’s hearing aid to the dresser and ices his knee once his prosthetic is tucked beneath the bed.  
  
With his glasses on the nightstand, it’s easy to see that Makoto’s eyes are swollen. Haruka’s heart twists before he kisses at his brows, his forehead, and he doesn’t stop when Makoto manhandles Haruka on top of him.  
  
Against his lips, Makoto gasps, “Don’t you need to call everyone?”  
  
“I will.” Haruka cups his face to pin him down for a deeper kiss and Makoto moans. “After I get you to sleep.”  
  
Makoto licks into his mouth more insistently, hands sneaking under Haruka’s pants to squeeze his ass. “And what if I need you first?”  
  
Haruka smiles against his cheek, letting Makoto rock up against his stomach. Haruka says, “You really should go to bed, Makoto. You've had a shit day.” Despite this, he suckles at his lobe and licks it sore.  
  
Makoto drops wet little smacks all over Haruka’s jaw on the way down to his throat. “I –” He gives a quick, possessive gnaw. “I wanna forget today. I don’t want to think about anything else but you.”  
  
Heart soaring, Haruka brushes their noses together. “You can’t do that on your own? I have to fuck you to sleep to make you think about me?”  
  
“Don’t be rude.” Makoto’s smile stops time for Haruka. His arms are splayed over his head as his naked chest rises at an excited pace and the _whine_ Makoto lets out when he feels Haruka’s cock against his thigh – nothing else matters.  
  
Makoto holds him so tight through it. Haruka takes each scratch and bite without falter, letting Makoto remind himself that every inch of Haruka belongs to him. His brows pinch high when Haruka rests inside him and he arches into the drag out, the push in. He can’t move much without his prosthetic, but he doesn’t need to right now, not when Haruka is cradling him, pinning him, kissing at every scar he can find and moaning as if Makoto is the only thing he’ll ever taste.  
  
Makoto holds Haruka under his borrowed flannel, kissing around his collar like he’s whispering promises to the skin underneath, waiting patiently to see it again. To watch someone love him so deeply – it’s a miracle he makes Makoto come first.   
  
It should be a one-and-done night, but Makoto is still gazing up at him in the panting aftermath. His voice is a graveled slur. “I’ve been thinking.”  
  
Haruka continues to roll his fingernails around Makoto’s scalp and presses his lips to Makoto’s hearing ear so he can listen to him better. “Hmm?”  
  
“About that question he asked you. The one about Adam and Eve.”  
  
“Oh, it’s – some sort of initiation into Diamondback."  
  
“Okay, great, creepy, but I was thinking more the possible answers. In the Garden of Eden, would you be Adam or Eve?” He repeats the question to himself and ponders it. Makoto cuts a self-depreciating smile, though his blush is softer, bashful. “I would probably be Eve. Taking any chance I could to give us a better life, even if I thought it might be a lie. Who would you be?”  
  
The answer rings true in Haruka’s core and he hates it. “I would be God.”  
  
Makoto frowns. “Why?”  
  
Haruka gazes at him hopelessly. “Because any terrible place you found yourself in would be my fault. It’d still be my doing somehow.”  
  
Makoto surprises him by rolling his eyes. “That’s not true. Pretty sure we’re in love, so I doubt you’d cast me out into some dark wasteland.” He chuckles. “Especially with another man.”  
  
Haruka smiles for him. “No, I don’t think I’d do that.”  
  
“So you agree? You’re absolutely wrong and not God in this scenario?”  
  
“Who would you like me to be, then?”  
  
Makoto traces Haruka’s lip, even dipping his thumb inside to shape his chipped tooth. Haruka nibbles his thumb and Makoto whispers, “You’d be the Tree.”

* * *

[ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s2048x3072/3b76fe53403bb087028b49ab4a68c3d02ec373e6.jpg) [ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGne6NU1rCc)

**PICK A CARD**

_Your name is Eve and you come from a lost age  
  
You've never known hunger  
  
But you suffer  
  
An untouched world waits outside your paradise  
  
You yearn  
  
The Forbidden Fruit of that Tree - it will speak words you've never heard  
  
It will give you names for colors you've never seen  
  
But that bite comes with an eternal price  
  
Do you go to the Tree and take the Fruit as your own  
  
Or do you spend the rest of the day lying in the Sun?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big big hug to [ale](https://twitter.com/AleishaDrms) for the amazing chapter art ;.;
> 
> *for the record the "right" cards are just hints about the plot - not me saying eve was wrong lol*
> 
> up next, we're getting the crew back together :') 
> 
> thank you so much for your feedback. please let me know what you think and stay safe! 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


	6. Chapter Five: Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Diamondback built their house of cards in Iwatobi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now it's time for *~theorizing~* and *~being a protective fam~* with freebird
> 
>  **Three Times Penalty** : if you'll remember in ewoatt, members of organized crime were given the opportunity for a clean slate if they came forward with information - but the gag is that if they are found guilty of any affiliated crimes afterward, the penalty for that guilty verdict is tripled. again, not saying it's right, i'm saying that's the _problem_ ,
> 
> thank you and i hope you enjoy!

* * *

* * *

**August 9 th  
11:03 pm**  
  
[Like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMtLfiJ9kYU) the instinct to migrate, they flock together at the Yamazaki house. Everyone is silent beneath the lamplight, dressed in varying stages of bedclothes; the slippers and robes speak of the panic that electrified each person on the drive over. A strained atmosphere tightens the air as everyone turns their grim eyes to Haruka.  
  
From Sousuke’s side on the loveseat, Rin grits, “What kind of threat are we talkin’ about?”  
  
Haruka considers from where he stands with his hands braced on the back of the couch. “A potential one.”  
  
Aki shudders in dread and pulls her robe tighter around herself. Natsuya nudges her kindly before she wraps both arms around his elbow, struggling to relax. From Natsuya’s other side, Nao is stoic in his foreboding. Still overcoming sickness, his real eye is bloodshot while the other is too bright in contrast, almost glowing in pristineness.  
  
Haruka meets their concern evenly. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not telling you about this to organize anything. If some sort of decision is made tonight, it’s between you and yourselves.”  
  
Nii takes a stiff sip of her beer from where she sits up on the back of the couch and Asahi continues to pace, hands steeped over his backwards cap. It looks like everyone might burst in the silence, so Haruka breaks it.  
  
“I have reason to believe Diamondback might be in town.”  
  
The air leaves the room. The group is statuesque in the revelation, afraid to move in a reality where danger might have been breathing down their necks this whole time. As if the last six years never existed, everyone is borne back to the paranoid. It’s difficult to speak through the tension as Haruka says, “Makoto and I went out for dinner. Someone approached me and asked the Eden Question. He knew my name.”  
  
Rin glances at the front door to ensure it’s locked three different ways, then he checks the baseball bat beside it. Sousuke looks down the hallway to make sure Gou and Namiko’s bedroom doors are closed, then he says, “Did you recognize him, Haru?”  
  
“No. He told me that he just moved here.”  
  
Natsuya’s expression twists with loathing. “This is cause for concern. Diamondback operatives don’t travel alone.”  
  
“But there _isn't_ anymore Diamondback,” Aki insists. “What could the guy have wanted here? If he wanted to kill Haru –” She’s stricken at the mere thought. “Wouldn’t he have done it? Kidnapped him or something?”  
  
Nao closes his eyes, shaking as he fights the trauma that grabs him like hands all over. He levels himself and stills, deciding to face the memories that will provide needed insight. “I don’t think he wanted to kill Haru.” Nao studies him piercingly as his voice lowers. “You said he asked you the Eden Question?” Haruka nods and Nao’s mouth parts in shock. At Natsuya’s concerned touch, Nao says, “Haru, he presented you with initiation. He might have been asking you to _join_ Diamondback.”  
  
Nii hisses a curse under her breath as Haruka reels in disgust. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “He seemed hostile.”  
  
“Maybe he wasn’t trying to initiate you,” Aki tries. “He could have been warning you.”  
  
Asahi snorts, shaking his head in stubborn frustration. “If he was warning Haru, then it was just that – a warning. A threat.”   
  
Nao pats Natsuya’s jean pocket. “Give me your phone.” Natsuya complies, puzzled as Nao taps the screen. “Every few weeks, I check what homes are for sale in Iwatobi.”  
  
It takes Nii a beat before she hikes a brow. “You think Diamondback would be stupid enough to move back to the historical district?” She thumbs the lip of her bottle, then she’s gesturing in exasperation. “Casa della Vipera was their base and it’s right in the middle of that block! They couldn’t be more obvious if they're shacking up there.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter if it’s foolish,” Nao says without pulling his gaze from the screen. Nobody speaks on his trembling hand. “It’s bold. It makes a statement. They don’t care if it also makes them look ridiculous.” He takes a breath. “If Diamondback dares to regenerate, it isn’t going to be a subtle affair.”  
  
Haruka says, “Well, yes, but –”  
  
Nao drops the phone on the coffee table.  
  
Everyone stares at him as he falls shades paler. Fear razes the air. Natsuya grabs the phone and when he sees, his brows furrow in defiance; he mouths for words, he grits his teeth. He deflates. “Sold.” He shows them the screen before scrolling to the next home. “Sold.” He scrolls faster. “Sold, sold –!” Natsuya flings the phone to the table and buries his face in his hands.  
  
Aki takes the phone with bated breath, voice reduced to a whisper. “It looks like most if not all homes in the historical district were purchased on the same date last week.” Her mouth trembles. “Casa della Vipera sold as well, but – maybe an investor bought the historical district? Those houses were starting to get rundown after being empty so long –”  
  
“Aki,” Nii scoffs. “Come on, you know better than that –”  
  
 _“It doesn’t matter what I know!”_ She shakes with the outburst as tears brim her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what the signs point to, Nii, because this can’t – _they_ can’t –” She swallows and her voice breaks. “I have _babies_ now.”  
  
As Aki borders on hysterical, Nii takes her hand in silence. Aki sniffles and rests her forehead against the girl’s leg.  
  
Sousuke stands beside Haru with pent-up energy; Haru gets a thought and says, “What about the lodge?”  
  
His brother frowns. “The one where you and Makoto got married?”  
  
“Yeah, in the outskirts. It used to belong to the De Vitis family.”  
  
Rin is already looking through his phone. He cranes back from the screen in disbelief. “I can’t find anything that says it was sold but it’s closed to the public right now.”  
  
Asahi’s agitation loses strength. “Oh God.” He crouches to hold himself around the middle. “Oh my God.”  
  
Nao comes out of his stupor to kneel beside Asahi and rub his back. Even though he isn’t fairing much better, Haruka must ask him, “Nao, what could they want?”  
  
Nao looks away. He rises to his feet and with echoing steps, he goes to the window. Passing headlights cut through the shades and his fake eye doesn’t catch the flash – it just rolls over the glass, untouchable. “Diamondback itself began in Iwatobi as a plant,” he explains. “Global crime rings, they often have dozens of smaller cells planted throughout the world, so even though the group originated in Rome –”  
  
“They were still turning profits in the drug trade elsewhere,” Haru supplies.  
  
“Correct. Diamondback never had much political power in Italy, not even centuries back – so they steadily increased their presence elsewhere. Primarily Iwatobi.” He fights a chill, lifting his chin. “I heard rumors of something happening in Rome. Augustine, Pietro’s father, was still going there for much of his youth, then there was an investigation. By adulthood, Augustine had fled to Iwatobi permanently and never went back to Italy. Many followed him here from other global cells, including my parents. I think they were in Kyoto before.” He cuts a bitter laugh. “So, I was born here. Pietro as well.”  
  
Nii adjusts the headphones around her neck. “Do you think _all_ of Diamondback followed him here?”  
  
“I’m not saying they didn’t have _some_ resources back in Rome or elsewhere, but they built their house of cards in Iwatobi.” Nao rubs under his sleeve like that faded snakeskin tattoo still burns. “If they went back to Rome after I killed Pietro, then it was out of desperation. They didn’t have anywhere else to go.”  
  
Sousuke crosses his arms. “Sounds like they were pinned for resources. Iwatobi was their last chance at greatness.” He strokes his chin. “How did the line of succession work in Diamondback? Did the next leader need to be a blood relative? A child of that leader, specifically.”  
  
Natsuya catches on, sitting up intently. “Haru, what’d the guy look like? The one that talked to you.”  
  
“He wasn’t Italian – plus, he was about twenty. Not Pietro’s toddler.”  
  
Nao tells the group, “Blood succession was the preferred way to do things. When Pietro and I got engaged, his father told me that Pietro would still need an heir even if he had to get a cousin pregnant.”  
  
Nii snorts into her beer bottle. “Why is that the least surprising thing I’ve heard tonight?”  
  
“But,” Nao continues, “Pietro didn’t want to do it. If he had a child, it wasn’t to my knowledge and he didn’t do it willingly.”  
  
Rin is disturbed. “Would Augustine still have forced him to do it? Like, _made_ Pietro have a kid with family?”  
  
“Augustine couldn’t make Pietro do anything. He was spoiled. Augustine let him chase after me despite that his family considered it shameful.” Nao shakes his head firmly. “No, I’m certain that Pietro didn’t have a child.”  
  
Asahi looks up from his place on the floor with pleading hope. “So, we’re in the clear? There’s no leader? A bunch of rich bastards just moved into the historical district for no good reason?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Nao confesses. “If Augustine allowed Pietro to ignore one rule, then he was going to make him follow another one – at least when it came to this.”  
  
Haru blinks dazedly. “You’re saying Augustine made sure there was an heir even if it wasn’t a child of Pietro’s.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Nao repeats with more frustration. “I don’t think that had been done before. I don’t know if Pietro cared enough about it, not even after he was diagnosed with cancer. Augustine hated telling him off, he might not have even made any moves about succession when he was still alive. He probably thought he had more time but then his wife killed him, and Pietro killed his mom before taking power –” He pulls in a ragged breath like a gasp for life. “They were insane. There’s no telling where their heads were at.”  
  
Natsuya goes to him and cups Nao’s face. They share a look, one of them wearing an expression of haunted exhaustion while the other is reassuring, and Natsuya tucks him protectively under the arm. Natsuya says, “In short, there is no leader unless Pietro changed the rules, and we have no way to confirm that.”  
  
Haru frowns. “Could he really change the rules of succession if he wanted to?”  
  
“There’s a reason Pietro didn’t trust Diamondback,” Natsuya says. “They needed the stability of tradition and Pietro proved he didn’t give a damn about tradition when he asked Nao to marry him.” Natsuya holds his husband a fraction tighter, working his jaw. “If he dared to choose someone outside of blood to lead Diamondback, members wouldn’t rush to support them. The person wouldn’t be well-liked.”  
  
Sousuke stands over the loveseat to pull Rin’s hair to the side from behind. He works his fingers over Rin's aching neck, mumbling, “Let’s say, just for the hell of it, there’s a new leader and it’s not Pietro’s kid. Would members still follow that person to Iwatobi?”  
  
“If they did,” Natsuya says, “then nobody had a choice.”   
  
Aki sits up intently. “I think we’re getting closer to things we can confirm. We know Diamondback didn’t have that many options in Rome and it’s safe to bet that when Pietro died, those resources in Rome dwindled even further. If power dies in the nucleolus, then that weakness spreads – according to Sayaka’s homework, at least.”   
  
Rin’s eyes widen in realization. “You think Diamondback’s last global cells are coming to Iwatobi like they did when Augustine fled here. They’re _retreating_ back to this city.”  
  
“Exactly,” Aki nods. “And anyone left in Rome is coming with them.”  
  
Rin isn’t relieved. “Just because they’re on their last leg don’t mean they ain’t a threat.”  
  
“I’m with Rin,” Asahi says. “Think about that dude that was such an ass to Haru - that kinda shit-talkin’ ain’t what you do when you’re scared.”  
  
“Diamondback’s over the top, though,” Nii reminds. “I can see it.”  
  
Rin scowls. “Either way, I don’t like it.”  
  
Haruka shifts his weight. “Makoto was inclined to believe that the guy might just act like a dick everywhere he goes.”  
  
Everyone is stunned and Sousuke is the first to pick his jaw off the floor. “He saw that happen with you and him?”  
  
“Yes.” Haruka’s voice is tight. “I won’t have him go through that again; I’ve promised him that I’m not getting involved. Like I said – if you make a decision about this predicament, then it’s _your_ decision. I’m not leading anything.”  
  
Rin chews the black polish off his nail. “We could take a vote.” When Sousuke eyes him, Rin stares back without hesitation. “We have a daughter now.”  
  
Natsuya sighs. “Children or no, I’ll be worried about any of you being near the historical district.”  
  
Aki braces herself. “What are you two proposing?”  
  
“We kill him,” Rin shrugs. “Find the guy that cornered Haru and send a message of our own. Diamondback might even leave Iwatobi and find somewhere new if we scare them enough.”  
  
“Or you’ll start a new _war,”_ Aki spews in horror. “I vote no, absolutely not.”  
  
Natsuya says, “What do you want to do, Aki?”  
  
“I’m with Makoto on this one.” She ties her robe haughtily. “Not because I trust Diamondback to be timid in their fear but because I know what fighting brings – so in the spirit of remembrance, my vote counts for Kazuki and Nakagawa as well.”  
  
Rin flinches as if struck.  
  
Natsuya takes a breath. “I still vote yes.”  
  
 _“Natsuya –”_ Aki starts.  
  
“I’m sorry, Aki, but this is a ticking timebomb. They knew they were starting a war by coming back to Iwatobi. They didn’t come to be quiet.”  
  
“I vote yes,” Nii says, much to Aki’s shock. “I’m sorry. That guy approached Haru and if we do nothing, those cunts will see it as compliance. We have the advantage if we go ahead and strike first. Sousuke and I are on the inside, we can make sure nobody’s on a beat wherever the dude is hanging out.”  
  
Asahi picks stray leaves off his florist apron, mumbling his answer. “I vote yes. I don’t wanna go through this again.”  
  
Nao pulls his sleeves around his hands with a shiver. It takes him a minute to get his answer. “I want the world rid of Diamondback more than anyone, but we need to remember that things have changed. We have lives now – families, children, responsibilities. We received a clean slate under the Three Times Penalty, yes, but now, if any of you are found guilty for murder – if there’s _any_ gang-related activity – your sentence will be tripled. I’ll never see one of you again. If I can stop that from happening, then I’m going to take it. I vote no.” He arches a brow at Rin. “There might not be anymore organized groups in Iwatobi, but I highly doubt Nadia stopped protecting rentgirls. Tell her that Diamondback is here; let her be the reckless one.”  
  
“I agree with Nao,” Sousuke says. “I vote no.” At Rin’s scoff of betrayal, he passionately adds, “I would _never_ give them the opportunity to do anything to Namiko. I’m saying that if Nadia wants to be the Fall Guy –”  
  
“Bad wording,” Nii grumbles.  
  
“— then that’s what we need to let happen, Rin.” He levels their gazes. “Gou still needs you; I need you. You know good and well I’ll fire that first shot when it's time to defend this family.”  
  
Rin fumes in silence.  
  
The rest of them turn to Haruka, who says, “I’m not in this, remember? I’m not voting.”  
  
“Sounds like a negative vote by default,” Aki beams.  
  
“If Haru’s voting no, we’re tied.” Nii looks around tensely. “Forgoing Kazuki and Nakagawa through Aki, that is.”  
  
“You’re all forgetting Makoto,” Nao smiles. “He might not have the tattoo, but he’s as much a part of this family as anyone in this room. If he doesn’t want to get involved with this situation, then it’s a negative. Makoto breaks the tie – and I promise Nitori would also vote no if you’d like to call him. Seijuro too, for that matter.”  
  
Asahi closes his eyes with the briefest flash of relief – just because he’s willing to protect the people he loves doesn’t mean that he isn’t terrified. “What do we do, then? Nothing?”  
  
“We tell Nadia that Diamondback is in town and let her make her own move, if any,” Nao says.  
  
Rin grumbles, “She just opened that club down the block from mine. Guess that means I’ll have to be the one to tell her.” He rolls his eyes. “God, she’s gonna be so pissed.”  
  
Aki worries her lip. “Do we even need to get her involved? Can’t we just –”  
  
“Aki,” Nii says. “It’s just sharing gossip. We’re not _asking_ Nadia to ransack anyone’s intestines – she’ll do that perfectly fine on her own.”  
  
Natsuya looks everyone over. “Then it’s settled. Rin will speak with Nadia; none of us will do anything on our own. Should anything like Haru’s situation happen to one of us, we need to let everyone know.” At their nod, Natsuya sags. “No hard feelings about the vote, please. We’re all just doing what we think is best in order to protect one another.”  
  
Asahi perks up. “It _was_ good to see everyone again, despite the shitty circumstances.”  
  
“Yes,” Haruka nods with the ghost of a smile. “I hope it won’t be anything like this next time.”  
  
Natsuya puts his hand over Nao’s forehead with a frown. “We should be getting home. Anything else, Haru?”  
  
He freezes, then clears his throat. “No, have a good night. I hope you feel better, Nao.”  
  
The rest depart soon after until Haruka is sitting alone on the couch with a cup of coffee. Nii hangs by the door as Sousuke leads her out and she says, “Oi, Sousuke – we need to be keepin’ our eyes open at work, too. I don’t like that nobody at the station mentioned people movin’ back to the historical district.”  
  
He nods, leaning on the doorframe. “Yeah, I thought about that.”  
  
She punches his good shoulder. “You should have been payin’ attention since you’re a detective now.”  
  
“You’re a detective, too,” he chuckles. “Don’t blame it on me.”  
  
“Those private eyes flyin’ in better help out with more than just the tiger case.”  
  
“Here’s to hoping. We really need it.”  
  
After she leaves, Rin flops on the couch with Haruka, sipping his own black coffee. Sousuke calls the dogs in from the backyard and they follow him to the bedroom; he goes to peck Rin’s lips but pauses, remembering their conflicting vote. Rin rolls his eyes and pulls him down for a sweet little smack. Sousuke smiles to himself and nods at Haruka before shutting the bedroom door.  
  
Haruka squints at Rin and says, “Why didn’t you tell me there was Krokodil at Samezuka? Sousuke didn’t mention it to me either.”  
  
“It freaked me out, but it only happened two nights ago. I had to get Namiko ready for school and Gou needed this specific pair of trainers for cheerleading.” He rakes his hair back into a messy pony, then he hugs a pillow to himself. “I’ve also been more upset than usual about Hitomu’s birthday tomorrow.” He glances at his phone and stills. “Today, actually. Jesus. He would have been twelve, can you believe it?”  
  
Rin’s grief is palpable in his whisper. Haruka sobers up, “He would have been a terror.”  
  
“For sure,” Rin chuckles. He seems quelled by the memory of someone he never got to truly meet; the fantasy of who Hitomu could have been gives Rin the strength to smile. “I’ll never forget his hair. He had so much of it for being premature, and it was darker than Aki’s. Maybe it would have lightened up with age, but I like to think it would have stayed like mine.” He sniffles, tucking his cheek against his pillow. “I can’t believe you can miss someone like this. My chest has been hurting for days.”   
  
“He was your son,” Haruka hushes. “He’s still your son.”  
  
Rin wipes his eyes and takes a comforting sip of coffee. “Anyway, as to why Sousuke didn’t mention the Krokodil – he said you looked in a bad way. You were overwhelmed and he didn’t want to upset you.”  
  
Haruka tenses. “He thinks the Krokodil might be a situation?”  
  
“I’m not sure.” Rin glances at the bedroom door before muttering, “He’s a little stressed with his workload. I’m glad he became a detective, but it’s put so much more on his plate.” Rin takes a sip of coffee. “It was the right thing to do, I think. The pay is better, and he’s got more deskwork, which means it’s safer and I can actually get some fucking sleep. Plus, you’re basically working each case independently. He really likes that aspect of it.”  
  
“Does he have the Krokodil case?”  
  
“I don’t know if there was enough evidence for it to become a case. The girl recovered in the hospital and said some chick gave to her at a party, but she couldn’t remember the address. He kind of dabbles in all drug ordeals, that's why he came to talk to you at the rehab center about that overdose.” His brows crease. “I know it’s scary as hell to wonder if the Bloodhounds are up to something – or Diamondback, or anyone else – but are you doing okay? You held up good in front of everyone but you gotta be shook up.”   
  
“I am.” He doesn’t usually admit defeat so quickly, but in the safety of his best friend’s home, he can confess it. “It was… I haven’t been that afraid in a long time.” He stares down into the darkness of his coffee. “I had forgotten how much fear I was capable of feeling.”  
  
“Because Makoto was there when it happened?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“He all right?”  
  
Haruka lifts his brows. “He might get worse as it settles in, but if he can put more distance between himself and what happened, then he’ll push through it, hopefully.” He shakes his head. “He refused to leave me alone. He really protected me.”  
  
Rin smirks. “You forget that him and Sousuke were both Special Ops. Sousuke told me that Makoto’s still a better shot than him even with the glasses.”  
  
“Interesting.”  
  
“Do not get horny on my couch, I swear to God.”  
  
Haruka rolls his eyes before standing. “I’m headed home.” He glances Rin over. “Will you be okay today?”  
  
“Yeah.” He smiles in thanks. “Sousuke and I both took off work, so I won’t be alone. It’s actually like, the first day we’ve both had off together in so long. We’ll be completely alone since the girls will be at school, I have _a lot_ planned –”  
  
“Goodnight, Rin.”

* * *

[As](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PN1r2QHsCho) much as Ikuya hates parties, he sure does go to a lot of them.  
  
There’s something validating about sitting in the corner of a crowded living room – he’s made himself go out, but he doesn’t have to deal with the petrifying ordeal of being known. The smells of summer body odor and weed will sink into his clothes and he’ll smell those clothes tomorrow as a reminder that he isn’t as lonely as he thinks he is.  
  
Crowds are still pretty lonely, he’s found.  
  
He doesn’t know why he keeps doing this. Ikuya could go into an art store and pick out the distinct shade of a solo cup under a blacklight; he knows what kisses taste like when someone’s been drinking vodka in comparison to whiskey (spoiler alert, it all tastes like hot garbage), and like a sixth sense, he feels it in the air when someone’s interested him. It used to be so electrifying and it didn’t even matter that the person wasn’t seeing _him._ At these parties, he’s just a slutty projection of someone he wishes he were, and everyone knows it.  
  
Ikuya’s been through a lot but when he fucks, the only thing he’s trying to forget is himself.  
  
He’s migrated to the apartment balcony. The fresh air does nothing to wake him up, for the humidity makes him more nauseous than he already was. Escape of any sort is impossible in Iwatobi.  
  
His phone buzzes and the screen glows in the night. A deep-sated irritation irks him, but an even stronger sense of worry makes him answer. “What is it, Haru?”  
  
 _“Remember how we talked about everyone coddling you?”  
_  
Dumbfounded, he blinks. “Uh. Yeah?”  
  
 _“I’m giving you the opportunity to prove them wrong – I didn’t tell Natsuya about you and Hiyori, but you need to give me your word and keep it that you’re not going to speak to him again.”  
  
_ Ikuya bristles as indignation roils through him. “What are you – _when_ did you speak to Natsuya?” At the guilty silence, Ikuya’s mouth pops open. “Did you all have a secret meeting and not invite me?”  
  
 _“It's not like that,”_ Haruka sighs. _“You need to stay away from Hiyori, please.”  
  
_ “So, I’m supposed to thank you for not telling Natsuya I _talked_ to someone? Am I supposed to be so _grateful_ for the _opportunity_ to be left alone that I just listen to you with no explanation?”  
  
 _“I'm trying to explain –”_  
  
“No. I’m tired of it. The fact that you’re pretty much blackmailing me over this means that you know Natsuya’s overprotective as hell and he’ll go absolutely nuts just like you are.”  
  
Haruka snaps, _“I’m not blackmailing you and you know it. I’m asking as your friend –”  
  
_ “Friends don’t give friends ultimatums! You’re all just projecting your trauma on me without realizing that you might be fucking _killing me.”_ Ikuya doesn’t mean that, he doesn’t, but his emotions refuse to go down quietly. He sniffles. “What about my trauma, Haru? What about that time the Bloodhounds _kidnapped_ me and put in the woods with Nii? You have no right to be upset about how I deal with that.”  
  
 _“Ikuya, I'm not judging you."_ Hopelessly, he admits, _"I'm just worried about you.”_  
  
He wipes his eyes, wanting to apologize, just wanting a _hug._ “Please don’t call me again.” He hangs up and with shaking hands, he robotically flicks the phone to silent mode.   
  
It doesn’t take Ikuya three minutes to figure out who to talk to next.  
  
 **To: Hiyori**  
 ** _hey_**

* * *

[ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s2048x3072/3b76fe53403bb087028b49ab4a68c3d02ec373e6.jpg)

**PICK A CARD**

_"Two households both alike in dignity  
_   
_In Fair Verona, where we lay our scene_   
  
_From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny_   
  
_Where civil blood makes civil hands_   
  
_Unclean."_

_  
  
Do you choose Juliet's dagger or Romeo's poison?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ikuya pls lemme give u hugs :( 
> 
> Btw that’s not a mistake about the cards 
> 
> up next: one of my favorite types of chapters, a sourin chapter!
> 
> thank you for reading. please let me know your thoughts. y'all have been so amazing with the response and it's so much fun for me to hear your theories. really means everything. stay safe!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


	7. Chapter Six: Justice (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We can think differently and still be a team."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH for your patience, my midterms have been absolutely disgusting 
> 
> i just need to brag on yall for a minute because what in the WORLD has been this response! i'm so overjoyed! the way you've been theorizing and commenting have made me so, so happy and excited to write. i'm grateful. thank you so much.
> 
>  **trigger warning** : rin remembers being r*ped in this chapter, in the beginning. it's not graphic but i totally understand if you don't want to read any direct mention of that at all, so skip the first four paragraphs if you need to.

* * *

* * *

**August 10th**   
**4:38 AM**

[Rin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Vls0gw4RWo) fears that his way of remembering things might be different from other people.  
  
The sights and smells of his past aren’t prominent in his brain. He remembers things through his fingertips: his uncle’s dining room wallpaper, which was textured beneath Rin’s little hand. It was designed in a repeating fruit pattern, and Rin still traces those shapes of grapes and apples into his pillow at night. He remembers how smooth the banister was as his father guided him up the clinic’s front steps when Rin was sick. His mother’s coffee pot had a wobbly handle that sweated when the liquid heated up. The drips would slide into the crease of Rin’s forefinger and thumb when he grabbed the too-big handle; he used to poke the coffee pot just to see how long he could touch it.  
  
Remembering through touch was a whimsical little quirk until he got older. Eleven, to be exact. Now he can be doing anything and remember the first time a touch was forced upon him. He shivers uncontrollably when it happens and runs his hands over everything he can: stains the windows with fingerprints, fists a tomato over the sink and wishes his horror would bleed into rage. If he ever does feel angry, it’s a fragile thing. His childhood self is somewhere lost in his head, out in the woods with a knife that he doesn’t know how to use. Anger can’t save the kid.  
  
So, Rin grounds himself in other ways, like touching things that weren't present in childhood. Sousuke offers his own face a lot of the time, letting Rin trace zigzags up his nose or ruffle his brows. Textures are important. Control is important, and Sousuke is wise to let Rin be the one touching rather than the other way around. He is still growing accustomed to Sousuke’s love even after all these years, yet Rin’s body somehow _knows_ the man. His face in Rin’s hands – it kicks something to life in Rin’s very biology like a wild animal to a cave in the winter. Rin is safe and sheltered in these touches, though it takes his brain a while to catch up.  
  
He isn’t always feeling his childhood beneath his palms. Sometimes it’s the last few years that creep between his fingers and drag him down into black tar. He remembers the touch of a blade to his shoulder, delving inward; the bullet that shredded through the meat of his thigh. Miho touching him. Clients pushing him around. He cannot ground himself when his mind steps backward like that, and right now, he is a clock spinning in the wrong direction.  
  
Hours after Haruka leaves, Rin is still on the couch; motionless as he spirals down. He hasn’t needed to feel this worried in six years and he cannot remember how to handle it. He’s only been this overwhelmed once in his life, when he was a teenager and the weight of his own insides was too much to bear. He carried them around like rocks in the gut, hauling them from one street corner to the next. It was an aimless life, one that he was losing wind for.  
  
Rin gets foolish when panic consumes him, always has. He sunk his teeth into the first soft, sweet thing that accepted him, and there was a time when Aki could bring Rin up from his knees. Once, she made him feel like a boy being chased in every way he wanted, but he quickly realized that he had no space in his ribcage for her overgrown heart. He was a terror-hardened thing that had no business pretending to be capable of what she needed.  
  
In the night when she slept, Rin prayed she would stop needing him. He hated himself for it, and every morning when she woke, Aki offered him more decency that he didn’t know what to do with. He pretended that he did. It was that miserable pretending which brought them to a soulless, monochrome waiting room.  
  
He remembers Aki’s name being called, and Rin followed. They were taken to a claustrophobic area where the walls were closing in. A monitor stood by a bed dressed in a disposable sanitary sheet, and it crackled so loudly when Aki shimmed up on it.  
  
Her stomach was seven months swollen yet the nurse had never seen her for an appointment before. The woman asked Rin questions there were no answers for: they had no insurance, no primary doctor, and no arrangements for the baby’s delivery. They were teenagers making it up as they went. Rin’s body was the currency used to pay for the appointment. He was sore and dehydrated from spending July in the backseat of cars turned off and locked. The taste of someone else’s sweat lingered behind his teeth and he flicked a stray pubic hair from his hand. It felt long and wiry like it could snail away on its own.  
  
Rin was shamefully grimy, stinking of body odor and a thousand fears: being young, a rentboy; being a soon-to-be parent. Aki looked no better, shouldering homelessness on top of pregnancy. Her hair was so greasy it looked wet and she was frail with weight loss, but she kept a hand over her tummy, soothing herself when Rin was too selfish to remember to. They hadn’t touched in a long time.  
  
Aki told the nurse that the baby hadn’t moved in a few days and she was "worried," which was an understatement, but she was always more polite than Rin.  
  
He didn’t know what to feel as the nurse used a wand to search Aki’s belly. Realistically, he should have hoped that the woman would give bad news and life could return to normal – famishing and death-defying day by day on the streets, but familiar.  
  
Not even the horror of bringing a child into Iwatobi could force Rin to think realistically. For months, his only strength was the thought of that baby’s face; what color their eyes would be and what foods they would like. What would they sound like when they laughed?  
  
As Rin’s gaze held fast to the monitor screen, he realized that he needed that baby to live. He tried to figure out what he was looking at. It might be something or it could be nothing at all. He decided in that moment that he was afraid of nothing more than that baby, but they needed to be all right. They had to be happy and safe because he and Aki would never be those things.  
  
The nurse kept looking. Aki didn’t breathe. Rin swallowed nausea.  
  
The woman pressed firmer into one spot on Aki’s stomach and nodded at the screen, saying, “I can tell you it’s a boy, at least.”  
  
Rin let out a breath so explosive that both women looked at him. His disbelief rose to his eyes, salty and hot. He felt the physical sensation of his broken heart stitching itself right up.  
  
Aki’s eyes were fixated to the screen and she fell in love in that moment, her expression crumbling with an adoration so powerful that it hurt. She said, “But is he okay?”  
  
The woman’s mouth firmed as the wand continued to roam. She was looking for a heartbeat and the speakers were silent. Rin could have been six feet under, and that quiet would have been no different. Denial raged through him, a wailing defiance that took a life of its own.  
  
A faint sound thumped to life – metallic and water-logged, but real. The noise became a strong gallop and Rin’s head cleared like he was breaking the surface of the ocean. He forgot the sensations of hunger and exhaustion. Nothing else mattered but the next heartbeat that blessed his ears.  
  
Aki was crying too hard to talk, so the nurse smiled at Rin. “He sounds like a very excited baby.”  
  
Rin’s eyes closed as he let that heartbeat take the rest of his senses.  
  
Sitting on the couch with his eyes closed like that day, he smiles to himself, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together. His own skin isn’t as doughy as Hitomu’s hand was when he was born too early, not long after that appointment – but Rin had never felt anything so soft. _Untouched,_ where Rin remembers all his sufferings through his hands. Hitomu proved that touch was vital in remembering the good of life as much as the bad.   
  
Rin is the one who feels loved as he rubs his fingers together until sunrise. He sits with the memory of his son and thinks about his little hands, his hair. He imagines somewhere that he could hold Hitomu and nothing could take him away. All Rin can think is -  
  
 _I would wait a lifetime._

* * *

There isn’t much time to be still in a chaotic household, especially in the mornings. Arguments take too long and that’s why Rin really shouldn’t be giving Namiko the time of day when she refuses to get ready for school.  
  
Rin stands in her bedroom, cross-armed with a brush tucked in his elbow. “You are not missing school by hiding under the bed, Nami.”  
  
She sticks her hands out from under the bed-skirt and raises both pointer fingers matter-of-factly. Winnie’s snout is soon to follow beside her. Namiko says, “I’m not going.”  
  
Rin glances to the heavens before shifting his weight to his better leg. “You are, and you can’t keep stalling. Come out.”  
  
Sousuke pops his head through the doorway, toothbrush still shoved in his cheek. “Oi, Nami,” he muffles. “Listen to your dad.”  
  
The girl is far more intimidated by Rin when he goes into Parent Mode, but Sousuke’s brand of sternness does the trick this time. Namiko shimmies out from under the bed and rolls onto her back on the floor. She thumps her feet. “Now what?”  
  
Rin sends Sousuke a look at her attitude before his husband vanishes back down the hallway. Rin picks Namiko up by the armpits and he plops her on the bed to brush her hair. Rin chides, “What’s gotten into you? You were so excited for school yesterday.”  
  
“That was _before_ I went to school.” She tangles her onesie’s drawstrings. “Now I don’t wanna go.”  
  
“Gathered that, but why?”  
  
She hisses when Rin finds a knot in her hair and he apologizes, working it out with his fingers instead. Namiko sighs, “Nobody listened to me yesterday when I said Misaki didn’t start the fight.”  
  
Rin considers how to approach this lesson. Last night, Namiko talked her head off about the fight between two classmates. Rin had never heard of Misaki before then, but he made enough of an impact on Namiko for her to defend him. His daughter’s trust is not easily earned. Rin says, “What was the fight about?"  
  
“Kaoru wanted to paint with Saya-chan, and Saya-chan was painting with me and Misaki. I didn’t wanna stop painting with Misaki, so Saya-chan wouldn’t paint with Kaoru. Kaoru blamed it all on Misaki, so –”  
  
Christ, it already sounds like petty high school drama. “There was no need for them to fight over something so simple,” Rin tells her. He sections Namiko’s hair into three parts and starts to braid. “Misaki should have let Nagisa handle it.”  
  
“There was no time!” She spins around to face him, her braid falling out. “Kaoru was being mean! I would have hit him if Misaki didn’t do it first!”  
  
Rin cranes back and Namiko curls into herself. She holds her knees, rocking back and forth. “It wasn’t right,” she struggles. “Kaoru was yelling. It was so loud.”  
  
Rin adjusts his mindset to her own; it’s something he needed to learn to do as a parent. He sits down beside her and pulls the girl into his side. “I’m sure that was scary,” he tries softer. “It’s hard to think when it’s loud like that, yeah?”  
  
Namiko nods hesitantly, resting her cheek against his arm. She relaxes minutely. “Nobody listened to me,” she whispers.  
  
Rin pats her back. “I know it’s frustrating when that happens, Nami-chan. I’m sure everyone was overwhelmed.” He ruffles her bangs out of her face and looks her in the eye. “You know there are only certain situations where it’s okay to get loud and fight like that.”  
  
“If someone grabs me,” she sighs, listing off the reasons by memory. She’s impatient with it, thinking these outlandish circumstances will never present themselves. “If someone follows me. If I hear something at night. Don’t get close to cars in parking lots. Say that long word in French and Echo will bite someone’s face off.”  
  
Rin stills. “How do you know that last one?”  
  
“Papa told me after that time me ‘n Echo got lost at the park.”  
  
“Ah.” It takes him a minute to let go of the panic that gripped him that day. “The point is that your Papa and I know there are times when you _need_ to fight. Arguing with friends definitely isn’t one of them.” He shakes his head. “Would you hit Sayaka if she disagreed with you?”  
  
“No,” she spews. “She’d cry for years.”  
  
Rin tips his head patiently. “Plus, it wouldn’t be right.”  
  
Namiko makes a face. “Guess not.”  
  
“If something like that happens at school again, let the adults handle it.” He taps her nose, adoring. “You’re a baby and it’s not your job to take care of those things.”  
  
“I’m not a baby,” she laughs even as she cuddles his side.  
  
“You are,” he coos, holding her tight and feeling whole. “You’re my baby forever.”  
  
Once Rin is finished with her hair, Gou steps into the bedroom, already dressed and bored. Rin sends her a look that his sister instantly understands: Namiko almost had meltdown and it’s Humidifier Time.  
  
“Nami-chan,” Gou says, coming over to admire the girl’s braid. “Let’s get dressed and then go sit around the humidifier. We can watch the forest channel for a while _and_ you can pick out what oils I put in~”  
  
“Citrus,” Namiko demands. Gou smiles, conceding, and Rin could sing her praises. Namiko has extremely specific things that calm her down and Gou handles all her requests like a champ.  
  
Once Namiko is settled in the living room floor, breathing in the humidifer’s fruity steam and watching television, Rin goes back to her bedroom to pick up toys. He doesn’t have the gumption to make her do it, not after that grueling heart-to-heart.  
  
Sousuke comes in to help him, dressed in jeans and a tee for his day off. He observes, “You look upset.”  
  
Rin sags. “Am I a hypocrite for telling her not to fight? How can I say that when I’m so ready to do it?”  
  
“A six-year-old squabble and what we’ve done are not the same things.” Sousuke plops her wolf plushie between two pillows. “We would fight to make sure she’s never hurt – not because we want to.”  
  
Rin shudders at the thought and Sousuke comforts him with a forehead kiss. Sousuke murmurs, “I really am sorry about the vote last night.”  
  
“Why?” Rin shakes his head in confusion. “You already explained why you voted the way you did. I get that you don’t wanna go in guns blazing.”  
  
“Yeah, but that’s not the way _you_ voted.”  
  
Rin pulls Sousuke in by the waist and tucks a kiss beneath his ear. "We can think differently and still be a team." His gaze skitters to the floor. "I just don't like leaving a threat unattended."  
  
"You're not." He vows it with his hand on the side of Rin's throat, fingers roaming to the cherry blossom tattoo on his shoulder. "I'll keep watch of Diamondback as much as I can at work." His gaze follows the path of his fingers before locking with Rin's eyes. "They have one time to falter. _One._ You won't be alone if that happens."  
  
Rin stares before resting their foreheads together in a breathless rush. Relief curls his toes as Sousuke wraps him up, and the man's next words fall absently. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."  
  
Rin lets that promise wash over him; he closes his eyes to seal it inside him, then he nods. "You should get Nami to school. I have some laundry to do."  
  
Sousuke's brow quirks over a smirk. "Sounds serious."  
  
Rin pushes up onto his toes to peck his lips, then backs off. "Bring Starbucks home for me, please~"  
  
Sousuke's retreat to the door turns into dragging his feet across the carpet. "You know the line is shit on weekday mornings. Maybe I wanted to get back home and sleep."  
  
Rin bends down for a pillow on the floor. He meets Sousuke's gaze while he straightens from his arch, and though he lets the man stare as he pleases, Rin is the one making it impossible to look away.  
  
Rin's lips part. "Did you really think I was going to let you get any sleep today?"  
  
Sousuke's eyes dilate.

* * *

If he rips back into the driveway on two wheels, at least nobody's around to see it. Did Sousuke graze the mailbox? Yes. Would he take a running leap and piledrive that motherfucker with his elbow if it meant getting in the front door a second sooner? Also yes.  
  
It's not that he's been depraved lately. Just around a year ago, Rin's therapist told Sousuke about hypersexuality, which is totally different from sex addiction since it's a trauma response. In short and in Sousuke's words, not the therapist's: Rin is ready for sex at all times because that was his lifestyle for years. His body was accustomed to fucking every day, multiple times a day, and he can't simply cut those instincts off now that he isn't a rentboy.  
  
However, there's a more crucial reason as to why Rin needs sex so often. His therapist didn't think Rin was hypersexual until he met Sousuke because that disorder is about needing to be reminded of the power of consent. Rin didn't have a choice as a rentboy; he had it with Aki, but it wasn't until Rin got older that he began to pick apart what happened to him and what he can do about it now.  
  
So, Sousuke and Rin have sex a lot. There isn't always such severity in it, and it's not fireworks every time, but let's just say Sousuke might have a stronger drive than he ever anticipated.  
  
[He](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyu75xUsc_4) makes sure Echo and Winnie are content to nap in the sun in the backyard before heading down the hallway, following the muffled noise of music to the bedroom. Upon opening the door, he notices clothes strewn across the mattress; Rin is folding them as the bedside radio plays. It's all normal enough, except his hair is damp from a shower and he's wearing black tights. They're just sheer enough for his tattoos to show through; it's like he's wearing another pair of patterned leggings, he's got so many. Sousuke suddenly can't remember all of them and needs to relearn each one with his hands, his tongue.  
  
Rin is also wearing one of Sousuke's button-ups open down the middle. His pierced nipples and navel are framed nicely by the ink that wraps his torso.  
  
Rin clears his throat and Sousuke meets his gaze in a stupor. Rin nods at his occupied hand, sweetly asking, "That for me?"  
  
Sousuke grumbles and hands the Strawberry Refresher over. "That's my work shirt, you know."  
  
Rin lies down, hiking up on an elbow to sip his drink. He shrugs, toeing some pants away with a flick of his silk-covered foot. "It was still warm from the dryer. So were these tights, aren't they cute?" He observes Sousuke with another sip and the shirt rolls off one shoulder. "Want me to take it all off?"  
  
"Please."  
  
Rin smirks. "Go take a shower."  
  
Sousuke's brow jumps. "So you want to do the fucking."  
  
"I like options. Cool?"  
  
Laziness makes him heavy as he considers, then Rin opens his legs. "I could start without you if you want," he suggests, running a hand between his thighs without breaking Sousuke's gaze. He pulls the hem of his tights down just enough for his cockhead to peek out, already lying upright; hard and glistening and ready. Its piercing begs to be pulled with Sousuke's teeth.  
  
Needless to say, he takes the shower, and Rin's triumphant laugh echoes to the bathroom. Keeping his hand off his own dick is nearly painful, but something in Sousuke knows that Rin would be able to tell if he tried to get off on his own. Sexual punishment is fun but it's very possible that Sousuke might die from lust if something doesn't happen quickly.  
  
He comes back to the bedroom with a towel around his waist and finds Rin in the same position Sousuke left him in: lying down and sipping his drink like it's a fine summer morning and they have all the time in the world. However, that changes when Rin looks at him. His chest expands on a strained inhale and his nipples harden just from the sight of Sousuke flushed, damp, and obedient.  
  
Rin puts his drink on the table but doesn't rise from the bed. He relaxes back on his elbows with a salacious heat to his expression as he thinks of all the ways he could take Sousuke apart. Sousuke would let him. Pride can't be found when Rin is laid out like this, his legs stretched out to their full, gorgeous length; the fact that those thighs have killed people does nothing to make Sousuke stop wishing his face were buried between them.  
  
Rin waits for him to cave. Sousuke doesn't.  
  
Rin gets up in a flustered rush and pins himself to Sousuke, grabbing his face to bury a moan against his lips. Sousuke kisses him back with a gasping mouth, chasing the noise of Rin's tongue ring clicking against his teeth. With a sure hand, Rin glides his fingers up the inside of Sousuke's thigh to palm him under the towel. His grip is forceful, needy, and he pulls away from the kiss with a glistening mouth.  
  
Rin's eyes are wild as they dart across Sousuke's face, and Sousuke marvels at the trust in his husband's gaze. There is no room for hesitation where reassurance has grown. It's remarkable how the awareness of one's body sharpens in congruence with learning another. Rin knows what he wants, and he isn't afraid to whisper those demands against Sousuke's scarred throat.  
  
"Tie me up."  
  
Ten minutes later finds Rin with his arms bound from bicep to wrist behind his back. He's perched in Sousuke's lap as he bounces on the man's cock, still wearing those tights with the middle ripped out by Sousuke's greedy hands. Rin is a vision: one leg bent with the toes pointed into the bed for the leverage to rock, his weaker leg folded to carry that rhythm. Rin grinds with his whole body and grits his teeth, feeling the full length of Sousuke's cock slide through him.  
  
"Come on," Sousuke urges, leaning back on his palms in a show of infuriating nonchalance. His gaze is fixated on Rin while he coaxes, "Work for it, baby."  
  
Rin grins breathlessly, flipping his hair out of his face. He drops his weight onto Sousuke's cock and holds it inside him, looking devilish as he spreads his legs even wider for more stability. His dick stands neglected, _dripping,_ and Sousuke still hasn't got his mouth around that pierced cockhead yet, but he can be patient.  
  
So can Rin. He lifts up with a slick noise, hips flexing until only Sousuke's tip rests inside him. Rin vices around it in pulses, just letting it kiss the gushing heat it needs to sink into. He rolls in circles on Sousuke's cockhead like a dance, whimpering when it stretches deeper inside. Rin takes his time working down each inch of him and Sousuke's patience breaks.  
  
Rin gives a victorious laugh when he's shoved onto his back, then flipped onto his front. Hands yank his hips up off the bed and spear him right onto Sousuke's cock. Rin gasps through a sensory overload, his bound hands jerking into fists.  
  
Sousuke pants, "All right?"  
  
"Fuck me," he croaks.  
  
"With what?"  
  
Rin wipes his mouth on the sheets but he really doesn't care that he's drooling for it. "Your cock," he whines, trembling like he's on the verge of madness. "Fuck my ass with your cock, you -"  
  
When Sousuke can't help but curl two fingers inside him, Rin's ire melts into babbling need. _"Please put it inside me,"_ he gasps, hands spasming to grab Sousuke's dick and pump him until Rin's covered in his cum. "Put it wherever you want, fuck up my guts or shove it down my throat, _I don't care,_ let me gag on it -"  
  
"Oh shit," is all the warning Rin gets before Sousuke is buried in his ass and spilling into the condom.  
  
In the silence that follows, Rin lies there with his cheek still pressed to the bed, his ass in the air with his arms bound, and his cock still neglected. With a flat gaze, he drones, "What happened to all that 'work for it' shit?"  
  
"Sorry," Sousuke says, still breathless. His hands quiver as he unties Rin. "Here, roll over, I'll suck you off -"  
  
As soon as Rin gets free, he throws Sousuke onto his back and pins his wrists. A surprised noise gets caught between their lips as Rin licks his mouth sore, then he melts kisses all the way down Sousuke's chest. Rin's belly button piercing grazes his spent cock and pleasure sparks despite Sousuke.  
  
With humored forgiveness, Rin says, "Lemme work for it." His smirk deepens. "That's what you wanted, right?"  
  
Sousuke braces but it's not enough when Rin opens his mouth around his nipple, sucking hard on his pec. _"Fuck,"_ Sousuke hisses, angry pleasure working through his sleepiness. Heat spills into his gut when Rin kisses the Glock tattooed over his heart.  
  
It's a job to suck a hickey against Sousuke's muscled waist but Rin manages, leaving his skin throbbing purple. Sousuke jerks as Rin peels the condom off before flinging it away. He settles between Sousuke's thighs and spreads them apart with excited hands - this is usually the part where Rin decides which area of his thighs to bite, but instead, he focuses on Sousuke's softened cock. He runs a contemplative finger down it and Sousuke twitches, still not worked up enough to get hard again just yet.  
  
Slowly, Rin meets his eyes. Rin swallows to himself a few times, preparing for something Sousuke can't imagine, then he slurps Sousuke's shrunken cock and balls right into his mouth.  
  
Sousuke's eyes bulge as his chest hiccups. He thinks he says something explicit caught with a scandalized gasp. His hands scramble to Rin's head to keep him in place. Sousuke can't function - he still hasn't had enough time to recover, but fuck, it feels so _good_ resting inside Rin's mouth. His balls don't usually get this much attention and they're throbbing on Rin's tongue.  
  
Rin takes his time working his tongue into the space between Sousuke's shaft and balls, flicking his piercing there. Sweat flushes Sousuke. His pulse roars. Rin gags when Sousuke's cock starts to swell and push down his throat, but he doesn't back away. It isn't until Sousuke's half-hard that he pulls off and coughs.  
  
"You're insane," Sousuke tells him, sounding fucking _mystified_ as he pushes Rin's hair back.

Rin's watery eyes crinkle over a grin. "It worked though." He grabs some edible lube from the nightstand drawer and spills the liquid onto Sousuke's cock. He fists him with a nasty sound while licking at his dickhead. Rin slathers his tongue over Sousuke's balls and he glances up with a wicked glint as he licks even lower.  
  
"Oh." Sousuke keeps his voice steady even though his cock is swelling between Rin's fingers. "Have at it, then." He settles back and gets comfortable.  
  
A grin curls Rin's words. "You're the laziest bottom ever, you know that?"  
  
 _"And?"  
  
_ He chuckles and laps at Sousuke's entrance more insistently, burying his face and moaning with it. Sousuke is panting by the time fingers tickle at him, and he grits his teeth when two delve inside. Rin hums a sweet, apologetic noise before swallowing his dick, coaxing him boneless. Desire bombards Sousuke's discomfort and after stretching him to aching emptiness, Rin sits up.  
  
Rin says, "You want a condom?"  
  
Sousuke shakes his head a bit too frantically and Rin's inhale shakes. He keeps Sousuke lying down on his back and shuffles closer on his haunches. Rin has a certain steadiness when he's stroking lube over his dick and lining up, something different than when Sousuke's inside him. It's like he knows he's in a position that could cause pain and he's determined to give singing pleasure instead.  
  
There's such _experience_ behind the motion as he sinks into Sousuke. His dick piercing scales Sousuke's insides, making him all the more aware how deep Rin breaches. Sousuke melts around him. Rin pushes down on Sousuke's stomach and the sensation tightens, making Sousuke feel the ridges of that barbell, the throbbing of Rin's shaft.  
  
Rin finds his spot expertly, grinding his cockhead's barbell into it, and an animalistic noise spews from Sousuke. It's blinding but he couldn't come from the feeling alone and Rin knows that; already has a fist around Sousuke's dick as it fucks up between his slippery fingers. Rin bullies deeper inside him with stuttering hips, determined to feel Sousuke come around him before letting go. He puts everything into the task, pulling no punches when it comes to what Sousuke likes: he scratches up the man's thighs, pulls his hair, sucks his fingers.  
  
If only he knew it would just take Sousuke looking at him when he's like this, rolling like the sea with ink over muscle, hair caught at the corner of his mouth. The line of studs in Rin's ear scrapes Sousuke's cheek when Rin groans into his neck, muffling that he _loves him,_ needs him, wants him forever -  
  
Sousuke comes with a weak spurt from his dick, but inside, he spasms hard. Rin fucks into the feeling and slams deep enough to make Sousuke's toes curl. He peaks with his teeth squeezed into Sousuke's skin, over his heart.  
  
Afterward, in the tangle of sheets and ruined laundry, Rin dreamily says, "I could eat you."  
  
Sousuke chuckles and pulls Rin's thigh higher up onto his hip. "You almost did." His hickies throb like a second pulse and he loves it.  
  
Rin strokes his cheek with just the tips of his fingers, lost to delicate awe. He looks stricken with a thought and Sousuke cradles his husband's free hand between their chests, murmuring, "What is it?"  
  
Rin struggles to put it into words. He revels in the safety of Sousuke's arms before tucking his cheek against his chest. "Nothing," Rin sighs, pecking him tiredly. "Let's go to sleep for a while, baby."  
  
Sousuke tenses before letting it go, and he embraces him more comfortably to doze off.  
  
Rin opens his eyes once Sousuke is asleep and as he gazes down at the man, a realization strikes him.  
  
 _How could I ever be expected not to fight for this?_

* * *

[ ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/140891b05e8a0348492ccd3f73c31b49/1e2f131b0c6fecfc-9b/s2048x3072/3b76fe53403bb087028b49ab4a68c3d02ec373e6.jpg) [ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0p1nbaizxI)

**PICK A CARD**

_You are a raven in a flock of many birds  
  
But you are not the only things in the sky  
  
You think of the Butterfly Effect:  
  
How every choice is one of a thousand possibilities  
  
There are consequences to each decision you make  
  
Even our good choices have lasting effects._ _  
  
Do you stay with your flock?  
_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, since i don't think i've ever mentioned this before and it might be confusing lol: when i'm writing "cum" vs "come", "come" is orgasming, "cum" is liquid. so. yeah sorry if you've been reading my smut for five years and wondered about that lmao. 
> 
> next part will be up soon! it's an exciting moment for me when i get to write my ocs, so nadia's entrance will be next >:)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be posting an ewoattverse cheatsheet soon, so if you still see this, it's not up yet. i'll link it here. it'll include info on characters, settings, themes, all that fun stuff so you don't have to take up all that time of re-reading the first story. 
> 
> shorter updates do indeed mean quicker updates, but i'm also doing this because this is a very layered narrative. it's a lot to unpack lol. this is just the prologue, so i don't mean that things will be _this_ short. 
> 
> i'm so excited to hear what you think. thank you so much, most ardently. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)
> 
> [thom soundtrack](https://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/639285640825012224/so-very-excited-to-share-this-its-a-playlist-for) | [thom trailer](https://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/639021482789535744/this-heart-of-mine-the-rewritten-sequel-to-eyes)


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